What's Ours
by You2rKillingMe
Summary: He had his reasons for doing what he did, but a certain redhead seemed to defy them all. My version of what happened after season 2. Mickey/Ian. Multi-chap. Rated M for many reasons. Sorry if summary sucks.
1. I don't know

Disclaimer: I don't own Shameless or any of the characters.

1. I don't know

It was one quiet night in the south side of Chicago, too quiet. The street was as dark as always, but something about that particular night sent shiver down his nerves. It was three days after he got out of juvie, the second time that was. He went in there because he needed a way out, a break from every shit that was driving him crazy at the time. A break from that fucking redhead with a shit-eating grin to be more accurate.

A hell lot was going on back then. It was his own decision to break it off. He was in too deep. What they had was going to get them fucking killed. Before the redhead, things were simple. He could live his carefree life, getting drunk and high, beating shit out of people, not caring about anyone but himself, well, maybe except for Mandy, but still, his life was simple.

Before the redhead, he was careful. He only fucked people he could threaten to keep their mouths shut after burying balls deep inside them. He never let anyone in his family know he was gay, anyone else either, except for those he had fucked of course. He even fucked girls just in case anyone had any suspicion, though he hated every second of it.

Before the redhead, he was happy, maybe he shouldn't have used the word because he'd never been happy, but it was close to happy, he guessed. He didn't let anybody in, that's the quickest way to get hurt. He didn't get his hopes up, they never came true, not for him, he was fucked for life anyway. He knew that the world had it in for him, and he'd accepted that as a fact for a long time.

The day the redhead came into his life, all those just flew out of the window. He hated that. He hated that the redhead did that to him, that he somehow had some effects on him, that he made him feel things he didn't understand, that he made him care, that he gave him some sort of hope he knew wouldn't ever come true, that he made him stupid and careless. For fuck's sake, he'd gone to juvie twice because of the redhead already.

And it wasn't just him who needed a break, the redhead needed it too. He hated that he actually gave a shit about the redhead at all, but he couldn't help thinking that it was probably for the best that he broke it off so that the redhead would have no distraction and go pursuing his dream of getting his ass shot or whatever it was he wanted.

The ex-con was sure that he had made the right decision. There were so many reasons behind it and they were all lucid, to him at least. No matter how he thought about it, he still thought he'd made the correct choice. But why? Why did it feel so wrong breaking things off? Why did those words still echo in his ears? Why did he still see that heartbroken look every time he closed his eyes? Why did he feel like there was a big hole that was consuming him from the inside bit by bit?

What happened that day still haunted him. As those words came out, the redhead became silent. The ex-con should have left right away, but he didn't. It was a mistake because that was when he saw the way the redhead was looking at him, the pain and sadness in his eyes that could burn through his soul with mere gaze. The redhead was silently broken, staring him with dull eyes stripped of their usual zeal and life. He hated that expression. He hated that he hated the way the redhead was looking at him, with those sad puppy-dog eyes so wide that made him feel like he would do anything so that the redhead wouldn't ever feel like that again. He hated that it hurt so much to hurt the redhead, that he somehow got under his skin. He hated that he wanted to kill those words for him. But it was too late, or maybe it wasn't, he just didn't know anything anymore.

Ever since he got home, he couldn't help but look at that particular crack in the wall of his bedroom. He hated that it reminded him of the redhead. He tried to cover it with like five layers of posters, but that didn't help. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake it out of his mind. He couldn't shake the redhead out of his mind. So that night after loads of joints and two packs of cheap beer did no good for him, he settled on a new strategy and decided that he would go get something stronger, some coke maybe, so that he wouldn't be capable of thinking any longer.

He got out of his house at almost midnight. But instead of heading to the nearest dealer, he found himself walking, though he didn't know exactly where he was going. He blamed the joints he took earlier that he ended up at the baseball field. That particular baseball field they fucked the first time he got out. He wandered in, didn't know why he was there nor what he was looking for. 'This is really fucking stupid,' he thought to himself. That was when he heard somebody yelling.

"Tell us where he is." A man's voice was coming from the dugout.

"I don't know," another guy replied. His voice was sounding so familiar. It belonged to the redhead. As soon as he heard that, the ex-con grabbed a two-by-four that was lying around and quickly rushed into the scene. The burn of anger flared up in his blood when he saw two grown men beating the redhead. His redhead. Without warning, he swung the two-by-four at one of them, aiming at his knee. The man screamed like a banshee before his face planted into the floor. The ex-con didn't bash his head because he still wanted the fuckhead to be able get away from the scene, not lying there unconscious beside the redhead.

Caught by surprise, the other man turned his head to face him. "Mickey Milkovich?" the man said as his face twisted in fear, looking pale like he just saw a ghost.

"What do you fucking low lives think you are doing?" Mickey snarled murderously, not looking at Gallagher who was sitting on the floor with his back leaning against the wall.

"Frank owed us money and took off so we figured we should beat it out of his kid instead. Why the fuck would this concern you?" The man said all that in one breath.

"Usually, I don't give two shits about how you scumbags do your business, but the idiot lying there is my little sister's boyfriend. He belongs to a Milkovich and we Milkovichs take people messing with what's ours very seriously. So you two wanna get the fuck away or do you want your limbs shattered first?" said the ex-con with a sadistic grin and deep, narrow, deadly eyes.

Not a single word was said before one man helped the other now-crippled man up and started running away. Well, no so much running, more like limping. They were so focus on running away that they didn't even have time to leave the this-isn't-over speech, let alone looking back.

Mickey's eyes followed them until he was sure they were gone before he turned to look at Gallagher. He tried to assess how much damage was done. One of his leg seemed hurt judging by the way he unnaturally bent his knee, one of his hand was held to his gut so that must hurt too, his knuckles were covered with blood, which meant he fought back, his face was covered with bruises and he was panting heavily. Mickey flinched a little when he finally looked up and met his eyes. Gallagher was staring at him as if his eyes were locked. The ex-con nearly reeled from the sheer intensity of his stare. His expression was unreadable, but Mickey could tell it was kind of confusion and anger mixed with some sort of relief.

Mickey turned his back at the redhead and was about to leave as he didn't want to have any kind of confrontation with Gallagher at the moment. He wanted to leave, really wanted to, but there was no way the redhead could get home by himself in that condition. There was no way Mickey could leave him, not like that at least. Still blaming the joints he took not long before, he scanned the perimeter and when he was sure there was no one else, he turned around and crouched down in front of Gallagher.

Author's note: This is my first fan fiction ever. Reviews are appreciated.


	2. Thanks

Thanks for the reviews. Here's chapter 2. Enjoy.

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2. Thanks

Ian couldn't figure out what just happened. One minute he was being beaten to pulp and the next Mickey was there defending him. So he just stared, not believing his eyes, trying to work out some sort of explanation. His head was still spinning at the time but he heard the ex-con said something about him being Mandy's boyfriend and that he belonged to a Milkovich. He couldn't tell why the ex-con was defending him or why he was even there at all. All he knew was that he felt so relieved when he saw that Mickey was there.

At first, Ian thought that maybe his head was smacked harder than he'd realized, and that he was having some sort of hallucinations. But when the ex-con went closer and crouched down before him, he was sure he wasn't delusional.

"Get up," he heard Mickey said, and then felt his right arm being lifted over the older guy's shoulder, slowly helping him come to his feet. Once he was upright, Mickey tucked his arm under his shoulders, bracing around his back, supporting his weight. Ian tried to take a careful step, but as swayed a little, he felt the ex-con tighten his arm around him. Their fingers tangled as Mickey was holding Ian's arm across his shoulders with his hand.

Ian wasn't expecting Mickey to defend him. And he surely wasn't expecting the ex-con to do anything after the men were gone, but then there he was, helping him as they walked slowly. He didn't know what to think. Mickey practically made it clear back then that he meant nothing to him. Why did Mickey help him? Why would he risk being exposed by helping him? Why was he even there in the first place? So many questions were going through his head. He knew he should be mad at the ex-con for what happened that day but something about this felt good. It felt right. So he just went along, putting his arms around Mickey's shoulders as the older teen lifted his weight of the floor and he sort of leaned on the other teen for almost complete support.

Ian wrapping his arm around him and leaning on him was too much intimate for the ex-con, but he didn't say anything. It was probably the gentlest thing Ian had ever seen Mickey did as they walked their way to the Gallagher house in a genuinely sluggish pace, like the older teen was afraid he was going to shatter if they went faster. Mickey's eyes were fixed to the pavement and he made sure not to give Ian any eye contact, even though Ian kept staring at him the whole time. After walking about half way without a single word said, it was Ian who finally broke out the silence.

"Thanks," Ian said with a small smile on his face. After a lot of consideration, he finally decided that despite all the things that happened before, when all was said and done, Mickey really did care about him. It made him mad as hell how easy Mickey made it seem when he broke it off, like what they had didn't matter at all, like Ian didn't matter at all. The ex-con did hurt him, bad. Ian was mad and he tried to stay mad, he needed to. Otherwise, sadness would take over him.

Mickey seemed to be the only thing he thought of most of the time, even though he tried hard not to. He even went to a gay bar and had meaningless sex just to shake the ex-con off his mind, but he couldn't. After all Mickey had done, Ian had no idea why he couldn't get over him. Why did he feel so empty without him around? For months, he tried to find some reasons, any reason at all why he was so addicted to Mickey. Sometimes he settled to the fact that maybe it was because the ex-con was the best fuck he'd ever had. But sometimes, no matter how crazy the idea sounded, maybe it was because deep down Ian always knew that Mickey was lying, that Mickey did care, that the ex-con somehow thought it would be better if they were apart, that Ian would be better off without him, which was ridiculous considering all Ian wanted was being with Mickey.

The moment Ian saw Mickey rushing in to help him, he couldn't even describe in words how relieved he was. Not just because he chased those men away, but also because it sort of confirmed that he wasn't crazy after all, that he wasn't wrong about Mickey. And when the ex-con helped him get up and walked him home, it really proved that Mickey certainly did care, that he was right about thinking that he knew the ex-con after all. And for that, he felt all the anger, the sadness, the pain were lifted off of him. For that, he decided never to give Mickey a reason to leave again.

That single word made his heart tremble. The ex-con didn't expect that, not in a million years. He expected the redhead to be mad, to curse at him, to punch him, to push him away. He thought Gallagher was going to tell him to fuck off, that he didn't want anything to do with him. He wanted Ian to say that. He could handle that kind of hatred and rejection, anything but this. This was way out of his hand. There was no venom in Ian's voice at all. Instead he sounded relieved, like he'd just found his way after being lost for so long, like he'd just found his peace for crying out loud.

The ex-con gave him an incredulous look, which he wished he didn't because right at that moment, he saw those wide puppy-dog eyes, looking at him, like Gallagher had already forgiven him for what he did before he went back to juvie that second time. He had his reasons for doing that, and he planned to stick with them, but that look on Ian's face alone seemed to wipe out all of his intentions almost completely and he hated that just a single look from Gallagher had that effect on him.

"Done is done," the ex-con said numbly after a while as they went on walking. "You are still a warm mouth. You can go get yourself killed or anything you want after this. It won't concern me in the slightest," Mickey continued as he looked away from Ian and stared at nothing in particular in the distance.

Despite the words, Ian could taste the bitterness in Mickey's voice as he said them out loud. He was amazed by the fact that what the ex-con said didn't make him flinch at all. Maybe he was wrong about ruling out the fact that he was insane because all he got from those words was that Mickey really did care. Ian could see emotions flickering in his eyes, could hear them seeping through his voice. The ex-con could pick up exactly what Ian was thinking judging by the words he'd just said. He could deny it all he wanted, but he knew Ian just as well as Ian knew him.

"But I want you," Ian said, blushing and looking away from Mickey for the first time that night before ogling him again with Bambi-like eyes. He wasn't sure at first that his head would still be on his shoulders after those words came out of his mouth, but 'screwed it,' he thought. After all the ex-con did tonight, he was pretty confident that Mickey wouldn't kill him for saying that.

To say that the ex-con was surprised would be a gross understatement. That sentence sent shivers down every nerve in his body and made his heart beat erratically that he stopped walking. Mickey could see through lie, he was a proficient liar himself and that meant he knew every single thing a person do when they are lying. And he could tell Ian wasn't lying.

His face went blank as it was his mechanism to hide emotions that were demanding to emerge. He wanted to shoot Ian a homicidal glare but those green eyes just seemed to melt down his confidence and reduce him to a pathetic fuckwit. He hated it, the feeling of being weak against the redhead so he turned his head away from for a few seconds because he didn't want give Gallagher the time to read his expression, before turning back trying to give him a scowl, which he thought he didn't pull off very well.

It scared the hell out of Ian that Mickey looked away, like maybe he was wrong about the whole thing, but when Mickey turned back and scowled him with some sort of confusion still in his eyes, Ian knew he was right. His smile grew wider as he tried to hold back his chuckle, tighten his hold around Mickey.

"You are an idiot," the ex-con said as his face turned into a real scowl after all. He wondered how Ian could tell what he was thinking just by looking at him, ignoring the fact that he could do the same to Ian. Even now that he called Ian an idiot, all Ian did was tucking closer to him, like closer was even doable. He wondered whether there would be the day Gallagher get in completely if the redhead wasn't in too deep already and it made Mickey want to tear his own head open.

Nobody ever gave a shit about Mickey Milkovich. His father'd made it very clear that he didn't like him. His brothers only cared about him when they wanted something to make fun of or wanted a human punching bag. Sure, they seemed to respect Mickey more now but that was only because Mickey was now strong enough to beat the crap out of them. His mother left them. Mandy was the only exception. Anyone outside his family avoided him or pretended he wasn't there. And that didn't bother him, not anymore.

But this stupid redhead next to him seemed to insist to stick around, to care, to want everything that Mickey was, which was nothing at all. To his concern, the best thing he could do for another human being was to stay the hell away from them so he wouldn't fuck up their life. He wanted to know so bad what was going on in Gallagher's head, what he saw in Mickey that made him insist to get his life fucked up by being close to him. But then again, the ex-con couldn't tell exactly why the redhead had those effects on him either, so how the hell could he understand what Gallagher was thinking?

"Yeah, your idiot," Ian said, grinning wide and continued to explain because Mickey looked a hundred times more confused right now. "Well, you said that I belong to a Milkovich. And you and I both know that I'm certainly not Mandy's boyfriend, so I kinda figure that you meant I'm yours." Ian said as his face went brighter, which was really stupid considering there were bruises all over his face.

"Whatever," he said, not denying it. Because it was kind of true. Deep down, he thought the redhead was still his, despite how stupid that was. The fact that Gallagher confirmed it was too good to be true. So he decided not to deny it.

"Does that mean you're mine too?" Ian asked as his confidence got even stronger now that the ex-con didn't flip him off.

"No stupid questions," the ex-con said, giving Ian one of his death glares. Then a smile tried to break out of his face and he could stop it in time, except for a little twitch at the corner of his mouth, which of course the redhead didn't miss, because right at the exact moment, that signature shit-eating grin of his grew even wider, threatening to split his face in half.

Silence took over after that, but the ex-con knew it was just a matter of time before the redhead felt the need to open his chatty mouth again. "I always know you care. I'm sorry that I sometimes forgot." It came sooner than he thought.

"Fuck off," Mickey flipped him off this time, but there was no real venom in it.

Ian just ignored him and continued, "But that's fine. You're fine for me the way you are. Am I fine for you?" Ian said as he turned his head away a little to roll his eyes.

"I just said no stupid questions, firecrotch," Mickey said with irritation presented in his voice, but it made Ian smile when he heard Mickey call him by that nickname though.

They finally reached the Gallagher house. Ian winced a little as dragging his way up the stairs would hurt him one way or another. But then, to his extremely bewildering astonishment, the ex-con bent down, slipping the arm that wasn't supporting Ian under the younger teen's thighs and swept his feet off the ground. The redhead was stunned for a whole second before he reacted by locking his arm to the back of Mickey's neck and gripping the older boy's shirt with both hands as the ex-con carried him up the stairs.

Ian felt like Mickey was carrying him after some sort of wedding ceremony, which was really dumb considering the ex-con probably wouldn't ever marry him. The redhead didn't think he would ever get an opportunity like this again so he tightened his hold on the back of Mickey's neck and shirt and tucked his head into the older teen's neck, breathing in the scent of him. It was the best feeling he'd ever felt, being close to Mickey like that. And for what felt like a split second, the ex-con seemed to relax into Ian's touch too. He then glared sideways at him and said, "Tell anyone about this and you are as good as dead," which made Ian smile for some fucked up reason, then he slowly put Ian down on the front porch and began banging the front door, hard and loud.

It was Fiona who answered it.

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Author's note: I didn't know exactly where I got it from, but "No stupid questions" is in my headcanon now. I think it's a very Mickey thing to say.


	3. A sprained ankle

**Warning: Smut.** Oh, and maybe some OOCness.

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3. A sprained ankle

'Really bored. Can't walk straight yet. What are you up to?'

'None of your business.'

'So nothing then. My house is empty. You should come by. You know. . . Slim-J-deprived.'

'STOP FUCKING TEXTING ME.'

Ian let out a sigh of disappointment after that. Mickey left almost immediately that night he brought him home. He didn't take it personal because he knew the ex-con didn't want anyone to get suspicious, but not seeing Mickey since made him feel like tearing his own hair out.

In other circumstances, Ian would go see him, but he got stuck in the house because he still couldn't move as freely as he used to, all his injuries got better except for his stupid ankle that still ached every time he put his weight on it. He knew Mickey never come to his house because his family was always around, at least he hoped it was because of that. So today when he heard that Carl had a football match, he told Debbie to go be there for their brother and convinced Fiona that he would be fine by himself if she would be kind enough to take Liam with her. Lip was already out of the house before he woke up so today was it, the day he asked Mickey over.

And all that went down the drain for nothing. He sighed again as he went from being bored as shit to disappointed as hell. He knew he shouldn't get his hopes up but he thought maybe Mickey would open up to him more now after that night. Guessed he was wrong about that.

So he just lay there on his bed, all alone in an empty house, moping, trying to breathe all the air in the room, thinking that maybe it would end his desolation. It was half an hour later and he still didn't move. Seeing his earlier attempt didn't work, he thought maybe he could bore himself to death lying like that as an alternative.

But that was when he heard a noise coming from outside. He tried to ignore it at first, but it didn't seem to go away by itself. And it wasn't like it was from the street, the noise sounded close, really close, and it was getting closer and closer, like it was right outside his window. It scared the hell out of him thinking maybe he got his death wish after all, but then he took a deep breath as he gathered every bit of his courage and then screwed his eyes shut before pulling the blinds up. He slowly opened his eyes and was extremely surprised when he saw. . .

"Mickey!" He said as he quickly open the window and took a clear look at the annoyed person in front of him, rubbing his eyes and pinching himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "What are you doing out there?"

The ex-con didn't know the answer to that either. He blamed the fact that he was high when he got the text, and maybe a lot horny too to be frank. Why else would he climb up a two-storied house to see Gallagher? He got high and drunk a lot lately, not that he could stay sober for long before anyway, but what happened the other night got him questioning of his own existence. "Trying to get in, you idiot. Both fucking doors are locked," he retorted, couldn't think of a better excuse.

"So you climbed up here to see me. Awww. . . Mick. That's so sw-"

"Say another word about it and that'll be your good leg," the ex-con cut him off, pointing at Ian's injured leg. The ankle was wrapped so thick he couldn't tell what was wrong with it.

"How is it by the way?" he asked as he sat down on the desk, trying to hide the concern in his voice. Hell, he wondered what got into him lately. Hypnosis? Spiritual possession? Alien brainwashing? Any of those would make sense, really.

"Better. Just a minor sprain actually," replied Ian, smiling as he blushed a little.

"You let me carry you up the front porch and climb up a goddamn house because of that? A sprained ankle? Seriously, do you wanna be able to walk again when I'm done with you?" He said, raising his fist to threaten the redhead, but failed miserably because they both knew he wouldn't hit Ian, not when he knew the younger teen wouldn't fight back anyway.

Ian let out a chuckle as he thought it was so Mickey to do that, but then his smile faded when he noticed Mickey's bruised knuckles. "You went after those guys," he stated that after a minute, it wasn't even a question. "You shouldn't have done that. I don't want you to go back to juvie."

The younger teen seemed tense all of a sudden, his overwhelming emotions were palpable, and Mickey could tell that Gallagher blamed himself for what happened, and what he did afterwards. God, he hated how he knew what Gallagher was thinking just by looking at him. The worried look on Ian's face made Mickey want to hit him and kiss him at the same time, but he didn't do either of them. Kissing the redhead might just be the end of him, he thought. After a few minutes, he just said, "Like I haven't done that before. Besides, those scumbags didn't even know what hit them."

Ian seemed to relax a little after those words had been said. The ex-con then cracked open a beer can from his backpack and started to gulp down before passing it to the younger teen. He was surprised to see that Ian was now watching him quite seriously, like the redhead wanted to say something but didn't know how to say it.

"What?" The ex-con asked, losing his patience.

"Fuck me." There. Ian finally said it, with so much gravity in his voice, his eyes fixing at Mickey.

"What?!" asked Mickey in disbelief, giving him a dubious look. His eyes widened considerably as the redhead just caught him off-guard.

"You heard me. I want you to fuck me." Ian said again, with a little smile on the corners of his mouth and a big smug expression on his face.

"I don't do cripples," replied the ex-con as he looked away. He didn't want to make it worse for the redhead.

"That's why I want you to be top. Fucking you would hurt my ankle. That won't happen if you are the one doing the fucking." Ian explained, moving closer to where Mickey was sitting.

Mickey didn't response. He didn't need to. The incredulous look on his face said it all.

"Think of it as a get-well-soon gift for me, okay?" Ian started to pout now, which the ex-con thought was cute, which made him doubt his own constitution. This just might really be his doom after all.

"You are a fucking idiot, firecrotch." He snapped, giving Ian one of the best scowls he got.

"You are the one fucking a fucking idiot." Ian said with a bigger smug face. "And I don't mind not being able to walk for a few days after you're done with me." His voice turned ungodly low which sent all the blood in the ex-con's body straight to his dick.

There was a mischievous smirk on Mickey's face before he said, "Oh, you really want that, huh?"

Ian shivered at the husky voice the ex-con said in return and felt his throat constrict. Mickey moved closer, pulled Ian's sweatpants and boxers down and moved his head over his now-exposed dick. He blew it a little before he started licking the redhead's balls. Then he let his tongue follow along the length and sucked on the tip, satisfied when Ian fell down to his pillow as his hips thrust up in a way that was completely involuntary.

The now-shuddering redhead before him made him swallow the younger teen down to the base, which made Ian almost shoot off the bed if Mickey's hands weren't on his hips pinning him down. He pulled out for a bit to slick his fingers then took Ian back into his mouth again and slipped a fingertip inside before followed by another.

He then pushed in further and scissored his fingers. The ex-con knew he had found the little sweet spot inside Ian from the way the younger teen yelped out a lustful moan. Mickey looked up at Ian through his lash and was satisfied when he saw the silly expression on the younger teen's face. He smiled around Ian's dick and continued sucking, blowing, scissoring and twisting for a while, before he heard a voice saying, "Fuck, Mickey."

The ex-con then took off his wife-beater and threw it away before he unbuckled his belt and pulled his trousers down right along with his boxers. He saw Ian did the same with his shirt and then he asked, "You didn't fucking think I'd let you come like that, right?" The ex-con said with an evil grin. "Now, where the fuck are condoms?"

Ian looked up and tried to reach his drawer, but the ex-con beat him to it as he crawled up his body, rubbing their dicks together in the process. Ian was whimpering from that touch, the sound beautiful and when Mickey looked down, he saw Ian looking up at him, his eyes filled with so many feelings, and that made the ex-con really uncomfortable. But at that moment, he didn't care. The sight of Ian lying down, his head thrown back against his pillow, his red hair sticking to his forehead, purring a little, gazing at him with more emotions than Mickey could ever think of, was the most stunning thing the ex-con had ever seen.

Unable to resist anymore, Mickey pressed his forehead against Ian's and locked their lips together. His brain told him not to kiss Ian but his heart punched his brain in the face, if it had one, and demanded that he kiss him. He had finally given in. It was irresistible. Ian was irresistible. Ian's lips felt so soft and warm against his and Ian tasted like OJ and bacon, which must be what he had for breakfast, and something that was just Ian, which made him suck the younger teen's tongue into his mouth and continued tasting him. Their eyes slid closed as Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey and rested his hands behind the older teen's upper back, mashing their chests together.

The world around them seemed to fade away as the kiss continued. It could have been a moment or an eternity, he didn't know or care. All that mattered was that there they were, kissing and touching, and it felt like all he ever wanted, and more. Mickey was glad that he had let go of whatever it was that had been stopping him before and opened himself more to the redhead.

Mickey lifted his hips up slightly to roll on the condom while Ian still continued kissing him like his life depended on it. The ex-con then drew back a little but made sure not to break the kiss and lifted Ian's ass up, supporting him by the small of his back to position them and eased himself in so slow that it made Ian squirm and moan into his mouth. Ian wrapped his legs around Mickey's own, trying to pull him in faster, but Mickey didn't let him. He was the one in control and there was no way he was going to let it end too soon. Ian moaning and writhing underneath him felt good, maybe the best thing he'd ever felt even though he wouldn't admit that out loud, ever.

He leisurely pushed forward until he was buried all the way in up to the hilt. Blue eyes widened at how hot and tight his dick felt being so snug in the redhead's body. He paused, feeling Ian squirm and groan underneath him before he began thrusting in and out, feeling Ian's fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. Mickey screwed his eyes tight shut, lost himself in the heat and the tightness of Ian's body. He supposed Ian could hear how recklessly his heart was beating against his chest as he could feel the redhead's heart doing the same.

Mickey had never felt anything so intimate before. Sure, he had Ian's dick up his ass plenty of times and his dick went up Ian's ass some other times, but there wasn't any intimacy involved. They had fucked face-to-face before and that didn't feel intimate either. But this, this right here at the moment was intimacy, even Mickey could tell it was. The way Ian wrapped his arms around him, embracing him, holding them close together, that was intimacy. The way Ian kissed him, tasting him, moaning into his mouth, that was intimacy. He hated Ian for making him feel it, for making him experience something so deep and intense, for making him know there was something more to him than he could imagine.

Ian could feel the way Mickey embraced him, holding him like he was fragile. He could feel the gentleness in every move and every touch, the way he buried himself inside him, thrusting in and out ever so tenderly. He could feel the way Mickey kissed him, like he was breathing through him, like Ian was as vital to him as the air he breathed. Ian could feel all of that, and it made him feel like they were connected together, like he was one half of a whole, no matter how gay that sounded. He knew how difficult it must be for Mickey to do something so private. He knew there were reasons why Mickey never let anybody in and he respected that. Being able to see Mickey opening up to him like this was something he never thought he would have the privileged to, and it made him feel like the luckiest person in the universe because he got to experience it.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, locked and entwined, thrusting in and out ever so slowly. But then Ian pulled away from the kiss a little as he was trying to say something. That was when he heard the redhead's voice in his ear, "Mickey, I want you. . . I. . . I . . . Fuck, Mickey. . . I need you. . ." The way Ian said those words, God, that was fucking hot. It sounded like the redhead was so desperate for him, like he couldn't hold it any longer. Something came to his mind as that he was thinking that. He didn't know when it slipped off his mind, but he now remembered what Gallagher said before about not being able to walk for a few days after he was done with him.


	4. What now?

I think Mickey talks, you know, when there are just the two of them and he feels safe enough, like in S02E02 in the dugout and at Kash and Grab. Anyway, here's chapter 4.

* * *

4. What now?

Mickey decided to change his strategy after he heard those words. He dropped all of his restraints and was now pounding fast and rough in and out of the redhead. Their kiss went from being gentle to intense and Ian was making the most delicious noise the ex-con had ever heard in his life, screaming and moaning and whimpering into his mouth with sheer pleasure and he couldn't help but did the same in return.

As soon as Mickey moved faster, all sense of control in the redhead was gone. His body felt like it was on fire, and, in response, his kiss got more vehement. It was like a battle of tongue and teeth now and he loved every bit of it, not that he didn't love it when it was tender but, hell, this felt right. He practically screamed into Mickey's mouth and the ex-con did nothing but continuing thrusting. Ian then felt the ex-con rolled his hips, slamming hard into him, doing something that Ian didn't know how to describe. All he knew was that it managed to hit that spot inside him every single time, in such a way that he felt some of his neurotransmitters got fried along the course of it.

Ian came almost right away after that, moaning absent-mindedly into the ex-con's mouth, his blunt nails clawing Mickey's back, fingers clutching at flesh, pulling him down at the same time as his back arched up, crashing their body together so tight that Mickey felt like he almost couldn't breathe. It was Ian's reaction coupled with the way his ass constricted around Mickey's dick that sent him over the edge as he, too, came and let out a loud moan into Ian's mouth. The redhead's white heat spurted between their bodies as they rode their orgasms and Mickey gradually slowed down the motion to drag out their rapture for as long as he could.

Mickey then put Ian's lower half he had been lifting on the bed and traced his hands up the redhead's back, pulling away from the kiss as they both desperately needed air. Their eyes were locked to each other's as they kept their faces only a few millimeters apart, panting heavily. The ex-con couldn't explain the look that the redhead was giving him. To his credit, no one had ever looked at him like that before. The look was so content, so warm, so peaceful, like he'd just come into contact with pure bliss. It was like 'I love you' was written all over Ian's face and it should make him uncomfortable, but it didn't, not at all, and judging by the way the redhead was smiling at him like a fucking idiot, he guessed it must be written all over his face too.

He pulled out slowly as Ian was making a displeased noise and then rolled off. He then flipped over to lie on his back, but with Ian's arms refused to let go, the redhead's body followed and ended up snuggled to his side. Ian nuzzled his nose into the crook of Mickey's neck and placed his hand on the older teen's chest, right over his heart. His dick was nudging into Mickey's thigh as their legs tangled. Ian could feel every single one of Mickey's heartbeats and it felt like they were somehow in sync.

The ex-con thought it was really, like really really, gay lying like that, but he went past caring since he climbed up the house. Ian cuddling up to him was the most comfortable feeling he had ever experienced. He didn't know why but he felt relaxed when Ian was with him, like he in some way eased out the madness inside him. Though he was not conscious of his reasoning behind his next action, he wrapped his arms around the redhead, holding him in place, and put his face in Ian's hair, which smelled like green apple mixed with his sweat.

Ian smiled into the older teen's neck and made a sound of contentment when he felt that, because if it wasn't Mickey's way of saying 'I love you', then nothing was. It probably made no sense but it felt like he just found his rightful position. He could think of no other time or place he wanted to be than right there at that moment with Mickey. He wanted it to last forever, except he was the one who ruined it, not with words but something he had no control over whatsoever.

Their moment ended shortly after when the ex-con felt the soft dick that was nestling against him before had now turned into a throbbing hard on. They went at it again after that, but this time with the redhead on all four because Mickey didn't think he could bear all those sappy feelings so often. Ian tried to drag out for as long as he could, but it was hard considered that the ex-con never missed his prostate while slamming into him. He lost it when Mickey reached around to grab his dick and jerked him hard and mercilessly. He came into the hand that was wrapping firmly around him as his ass milked the ex-con for all he was worth in return.

They flopped boneless onto the bed after that. Mickey flipped over before the redhead crawled over his body, looking at each other, both still panting.

"Didn't know you have that in you, firecrotch." The older teen commented with a smirk, relaxing more now that they were fucking senselessly again.

"Will you be top more often now that you know?" Ian replied with a teasing smile, which made Mickey grunt for a reply.

* * *

Some moments later, Ian was looking at Mickey with those absurdly wide eyes again.

"What now?" Mickey grumbled. His eyes were closed but he could sense Ian stare nonetheless.

"I slept with someone," The redhead said, avoiding Mickey's eyes, which were still shut but he felt the need to anyway.

"And you are telling me this because?" The ex-con prompted, cracking an eye open in a half-hearted glare.

"Just want you to know. I feel bad." The redhead said with a sign of sadness in his voice, like he thought he somehow let Mickey down.

"Don't. You owe me fuck all, Gallagher." The ex-con said plainly. It was the truth. Gallagher owed him nothing. To be honest, he should be the one apologizing, not that he would do it but that didn't change the fact.

"But still. I feel like I have to get it off my chest." Ian confessed.

"Who?" The ex-con asked after a while. He hated to admit it but he was kind of curious though.

"It was Jimmy's dad, and it was a one-night stand. I found out who he is when we were invited to meet Jimmy's family. Please don't put him in a hospital." Ian glanced up at him with concerned eyes that said 'I don't want you to go back in there again'.

"Jesus, Gallagher. What do you think we are boyfriend and girlfriend here? It's not like we are exclusive. You can be with whoever you want." He didn't mean any of that at all. Gallagher was his. He didn't know what they were, and he didn't want his mind to be involved in such a great contemplation right then, but to his concern, Gallagher was definitely his.

"But I don't wanna see other people, now that you're back. I miss you, Mick, more than I like to admit." Ian said as he made himself smile a little.

"Say that shit again and I'll rip your tongue outta your head. And you can quit looking at me like that before I claw you eyes out too." The ex-con cut him off. "Besides, it's not like I didn't screwed someone else either."

"You've been with someone in juvie?" Ian asked in surprise.

"No. I have some standards, you know. My brother picked me up the day I got out and figured he should get me a freaking skank to get me off." Mickey explained, though he didn't know why he mentioned it in the first place.

"Who?" Now Ian got curious, really curious.

"Karen Jackson." Mickey replied, feeling gross already by saying the name out loud.

"Karen Jackson? Lip's Karen Jackson?" Ian repeated the question twice, wishing it was someone else.

"Which fucking Karen Jackson else is there?" Mickey retorted, his mouth twisting as the name came out of his mouth again.

"But she fucks just about everyone, Mick. Me included." Ian pointed out.

"You?" He didn't see that one coming.

"Yeah. Lip had her give me a blowjob once. I didn't even get a hard on, which was when Lip knew I'm gay." Ian shuddered slightly as those disgusting feelings flashed through his mind.

"You are such a pussy." The ex-con said sardonically.

"So you just screwed her?" The redhead fixed him with a look Mickey had never seen before. He couldn't tell what it was but he didn't like it at all.

"You think I'm stupid? I worry about STD and shit too. I just let her suck me off, that's all," and maybe rushed into what might be his most sanitized shower ever afterwards. He had an outright phobia about that kind of stuffs.

"I can't do that."

"What?"

"That. I mean just thinking about a chick in a sexual way makes me wanna throw up." Ian admitted.

"You are so full of crap, Gallagher. It doesn't hurt having someone giving you head."

They remained silent a while and then Ian let out a little chuckle.

"What?" Mickey wondered.

"Just thinking about how Lip will react when he knows his fuckbuddy gave my fuckbuddy a blowjob."

"When did I become yours? I didn't remember agreeing to be your fucking anything." Mickey said, pulling a face.

"Yeah. . .," Ian looked away slightly and then back at Mickey, his face blushed. "But you know I was serious the other night when I talked about me being yours right?" Then he tucked into the ex-con tighter.

Mickey tried hard not to show his emotions, but in the end that actually made him smile a little. "Whatever," Mickey replied, closing his eyes again.

"So. . . are you mine?" He just couldn't let it go, could he?

Without opening his eyes, the ex-con replied, "I've already told you that's a really stupid question." 'Because you already know the answer is yes,' Mickey thought the last part to himself. Then the room just went quiet. It was inexplicable for the redhead not to comment after that and the silence somehow intoxicated Mickey that he had to crack his eyes open to make sure that the walls weren't closing in on them. Then he let his eyes glance at Ian and was satisfied when he saw that signature shit-eating grin all over the redhead's face, like he heard those words after all.

"Mickey." Why God? Why couldn't he just stay silent? The older teen thought.

"Mmm?" The ex-con groaned in annoyance.

"Don't hit me for saying this but I want you to know that you are my first and I kinda want you to be my last." Ian said that in one breath, really hoping that Mickey wouldn't hit him.

"Really, Gallagher. What part of what I said makes you think I'm okay with this soppy shit?" Mickey said as he felt more annoyance rise in his chest. "And you and I both know I'm not your first. You've fucked several people before me."

"You were the first to take it up my ass. . . and my mouth also." Ian clarified, his cheeks turned red.

Mickey gave him a questioning look. There was a long moment of silence before the ex-con said. "In that case . . .," he paused, thinking that he would regret what was coming next, "you were my first too. "

"Really? But I thought you like being bottom?" Ian asked as his prying eyes grew to the size of pancakes.

He regretted it already. "Yeah, but only when it comes to you." Okay, now he had gone insane. Mickey didn't quite know what made him admitted to that. Maybe he was too high, except he wasn't. Maybe he fell down the roof, got hit on the head, and didn't remember. Maybe those two rounds managed to burn his brain cells and took his ability to think straight. Maybe, just maybe, he felt like he owed Gallagher at least that, or he might just have really gone insane. The latter just sounded more convincing.

Those words made Ian felt like running through the streets screaming it out loud for everybody to hear. The fucking idiot shit-eating smile spread across his face so bloody wide the second those words came off the ex-con's mouth.

Ian propped himself on his elbows, fixing his face right in front of the ex-con's. "Then don't leave again, okay? I'll go fucking hunt you down and drag you back with me." He said with so much determination in his voice that it made Mickey felt a small pang in his chest.

"I kinda figure that out already, firecrotch." He tried to sound indifferent, which was the complete opposite of what he was feeling at the moment.

"So. . . you'll be with me, forever?"

"For as long as you want." Mickey's voice was low and deep as ever. He hated that he couldn't say no to the redhead at that moment, but he really meant that. He knew Gallagher could achieve whatever he aspired to and he wouldn't let anything get in his way, not even himself.


	5. Of all times and places

**Thanks for the comments, you made my day.**

**Here's chapter 5, a rather short one actually.**

* * *

5. Of all times and places

After somewhat officially, yet secretly being back together, things started to go back to normal - no, that's not the word - the way they were before. Ian was using Mandy as an excuse to fuck Mickey in the Milkovich house again. Linda gave him his job back, which was a combination of an absurdly high crime rate and Ian threatening to go work for a rival convenience store instead if she didn't.

And they spent their night hanging out together more, not dating, hanging out because Mickey didn't do dating. Just drinking, smoking, listening to the redhead yapping about some pointless stuff he didn't give two shits about, oh, and fucking, of course.

They almost didn't make it when Lip walked in on them. Mickey was about to choke the life out of him when Ian tackled the ex-con into a wrestling match and explained things to him in the process. Lip was amazed by how they communicate, which was, to his standard, the most ferocious, obnoxious, atrocious, and many more -ious thing he had ever seen. And out of nowhere, they went back to fucking again, which was when Lip hurried his feet out of the room and into the bathroom to meet the contents of his stomach again. He was dramatic like that.  
One night when Ian thought the ex-con was high enough, he asked whether he would tell Mandy about them and the exact answer was "Fuck off", which wasn't very encouraging for the redhead. But gave it time, Mickey thought about it too. He was vexed by Ian trying to come up with an excuse to use the bathroom, the poor bladder that had been accused of being the tiniest bladder of all time, all the food and drinks that had to end their lives prematurely just to make the redhead dirty so he could go wash himself.

He decided to talk to Mandy at last. If anyone in his family would understand, it was her. He opened the door to her bedroom and the next thing he knew, his sister was screaming, yelling indistinguishable words at him.

"You mind, assface? Get the hell out!" Mandy was with Lip, and they were, well, kind of very into something right at the moment.

He just stared at them, thinking it might be easier than he thought after all, before he, too, yelled, "Gallagher, get in here."

"Why? What happened?" Ian asked as he rushed into the room. "Whoa, I don't need to see that."

"Ian, get out! And drag him out with you too. " Mandy shouted.

"Didn't know you are fucking your boyfriend's brother." Mickey commented, ignoring her words.

"Neither did I," said a horrified Ian.

"Well, now that you do, please get the fuck out, or I'll continue whether you're here or not." Lip said sarcastically.

"Do that, and you can kiss your cock goodbye." Mickey smirked viciously. Lip didn't see that one coming, well, he was busy trying to come, but after that sentence, his terrified dick wouldn't be able to do that for a long while.

"What do you want?" Mandy asked screamingly.

"Just wanna tell you I've been fucking your boyfriend regularly for quite some time now. He thought you might wanna know." The ex-con shouldered at Ian.

"Really? Of all times and places, you chose to tell her now?" The redhead asked, glaring daggers at him.

"Is it true, Ian?" Mandy asked, sitting up and covering herself with a blanket, with a sobbing noise from an unfulfilled Lip.

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't tell you before, " said Ian, looking at the floor.

"How long?" Mandy asked, she was nosy as hell, Mickey thought.

"Since the time I told you I was fucking someone that wasn't Kash."

"Wow, that's. . . fucking long. Didn't know you like it up the ass, assface." She looked at her brother like he was responsible for all the bad things that was happening in the world, and they all laughed after that. Well, not all of them. Lip wasn't laughing, he was faking it, thinking the ex-con might do horrible things to his dick if he wasn't.

* * *

**I've read many fics about how Mickey reacts badly when Mandy finds out, so I decided to write a light version. Tell me how you think.**


	6. Now is a good time

**Another short chapter, which will be followed by a regular-sized one, hopefully.**

* * *

**6. Now is a good time**

Though it was almost two in the afternoon, he was still having a dreamless sleep with his head completely buried in his pillow. He was tired from last night, and not in the good way. It was his own kind of logic that got him into it. He favored keeping things moderately bad, otherwise real fucked-up shit would just hit the fan. Last night, he went out and pissed of some roughneck. He fought a brutal fight and won in the end, but it made him felt like his body was about to liquefy nonetheless.

He got home and dropped the lump of mushed bones and muscles that used to be his body onto his bed. And just when he was about to get his eleventh hour of sleep, someone barged into his room and forcibly hauled him out from the quiescent slumber. He moaned a sleepy sounding, "What the fuuccckkkk?", to the discourteous intruder.

"Just make sure you are still alive. Mandy called. She worries about you, you know," answered the scowling interloper as he sat down on the floor and leaned against the nightstand.

The ex-con turned his head to see the source of the infuriating voice. "Fuck off, Gallagher," he narrowed his drowsy eyes.

"Mickey, could you please help me understand why do you keep doing this to yourself? Don't you know that getting beaten up is not good for your fucking health?" asked Ian, anathematizing him with a death glare.

"Hey, stop being so dramatic. I won." Mickey said, quite lightheartedly, for him, which didn't make the redhead feel any better, not in the slightest.

"That is not the point. You got hurt. And maybe worse, you could have been taken back to juvie." Ian said, his voice now death sounding. The look in his eyes made the ex-con felt like he was going to burst into flames. "What did you do that for?"

"Needed a place to vent," answered Mickey, burying his head back into the pillow.

Ian knew Mickey had been through a lot. The ex-con's life was fucked up, but so was his, though his siblings were always there for him. Mickey only had Mandy, and he didn't even talk to her that much. "Next time, just come to me. Okay?"

The ex-con turned his head back to look at the younger teen again, giving him an incredulous look. "You?"

"Yeah. Or are you afraid that you can't handle me?" Ian teased, closing the distance between their faces.

"Don't flatter yourself. You know you won't last long. Maybe some other time, firecrotch." Mickey smirked, then closed his eyes and pretended to snore.

"Oh, just cut the crap and let's fuck already." Ian said impatiently, and they were about to, except that they heard the sounds of the ex-con's beloved brothers coming through the front door. "We need to move. Let's go to my place. Everybody is out today." The redhead said enthusiastically while he pulled Mickey up to his feet and pushed him towards the window.

"Ouch. What the fuck?" A not-fully-awake ex-con said as his ass hit the floor after being pushed out of his own bedroom's window.

"Now who's being dramatic? You landed on a mattress, dickhead." Ian said as he hopped down beside him.

"Asshole," he grimaced. Ian just grinned at him in return, watching the agitated ex-con stood up, and they started walking to the Gallagher house.

* * *

They flopped down to the bed, panting hard as they just went at it, twice. Mickey was still amazed by how his body reacted to the redhead despite being totally exhausted.

"Now is a good time to switch." Ian said after a few minutes, which earned him an incredulous glare from the ex-con. "I'm not done yet, and you let me do all the work lately." The redhead then smiled mischievously. Mickey was never top again after Ian's injuries got better.

Well, he was up for another round too, so why the hell not? Mickey thought to himself before he flipped them over so he was on top and started attacking the redhead's sensitive spot.

* * *

"Lip, I'm worried about Ian. He is out a lot lately and it's like he only spends time at home just to sleep. His work hours are the same, and Mandy is with you most of the time. I wonder what he's been up to." Fiona said as they walked towards the door. They all just got back from the supermarket after another one of Carl's football matches, carrying a truckload of foods and groceries to celebrate their next-to-youngest brother's victory.

"He'll be fine. Trust me." was all Lip's reaction.

"How can you be so sure? Do you know something I don't?" Fiona asked, turning her key to the door. She was going to continue her questions but something stopped her at the moment. Ian screaming very violently was what they all heard after they got into the living room. Fiona, Debbie, Carl, and Jimmy quickly rushed upstairs to help, with what they didn't know, leaving a petrified Lip all alone downstairs. He kind of had a pretty good and fairly detailed idea of what was going on with his brother, and he was about to stop them, but they were all too fast that he couldn't save them from their own traumatizing fates in time.

They were all shocked by what they saw when the boys' room's door flung open.


	7. Happy?

**Okay, this is a long chapter, the longest one I've ever written so far. But before that, I have one little thing to say.**

**WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS UPDATED ANYTHING IN THE PASS WEEK?**

**There, I said it. I need something to fulfill my cravings too, you know. Seriously, someone better upload something or I might just implode. Whew, I feel a lot better. Anyway, continue.**

* * *

**7. Happy?**

They opened the door just in time to saw Ian spurted all over their stomachs and chests. Indistinct words and screams were all they could hear when they realized they weren't alone in the house anymore. Mickey really hated himself the moment he let out some sort of bark when the redhead's ass clenched around his member as he, too, reached his climax. They looked to the doorway and saw Fiona scowling, pointing and yelling towards them. Jimmy was sort of frowning and smirking at the same time. Debbie was blushing bright red and quickly spun her face away. Carl was just staring, his jaw scraped the floor. The redhead froze and gawked. He tried to say something, anything, but no word came out, too surprised that the four of them were there witnessing him and Mickey.

Then he felt the ex-con twitch. Fear rose up inside him when Mickey straightened out his arms, trying to get up, and, presumably, bolt, leaving him again. Ian couldn't just let that happen, not without a fight, so he tightened his arms and legs around the older teen and clung onto him so tight that the ex-con had trouble breathing. He ended up lifting both of them and they fell off the bed.

Debbie turned her face back and took a glance at them when she heard a loud sound of their bodies colliding with the floor. She really wished she was blind the moment they rolled over and she saw Mickey's dick disappearing into Ian's butt. The house was filled with a deafening scream after that.

"Get the fuck off of me," Mickey bellowed, his voice cruel and his expression twisted into a dangerous look, but Ian didn't seem to flinch even a little. If anything, he seemed desperate.

"You promised not to leave me again," Ian shouted back, throwing his most murderous expression at the ex-con, but at the same time, staring at him with those big puppy-dog eyes of his that made Mickey want to claw his own eyes out every time he saw them. "They won't tell a single damn soul, not when they know what kind of situation it would put me into." Ian's voice cracked a little. "You promised."

The ex-con's rage was drained off his face after he saw the immense panic in Ian's eyes, and then he stopped moving as though the mere gaze stupefied him.

There was a pause, a heavy and tangible one, as the house succumbed to the reign of silence. It could have been cut with a knife, but no one did.

"Happy?" Mickey stared back at the redhead when he once again regained his ability to talk.

Ian's hold seemed to relax a little and his signature shit-eating grin was starting to form on his face, looking so content, which made Mickey regret letting him know he wouldn't leave him in the first place.

"Thought you were dying. Didn't know sex could be so loud." Carl was the first to comment. "And you know I've heard Fiona and Jimmy." He was still staring when Fiona finally covered his eyes with her hands.

"You two get dressed and come down for dinner," The oldest of the Gallagher children said, more like giving an order, which made Mickey frown at her. "After what you just did to my brother, you could at least stay and have dinner with us," she proclaimed, throwing a glare at him.

"Was I that loud?" Ian asked, his face went preposterously red as the question came out, like being in his glory birthday suit with a dick sticking up his ass in front of his siblings didn't at all embarrass him before. He already knew the answer, but he had to ask anyway, like maybe they would lie to make him feel better or something. He had thought about jumping off the window twice already. Come to think of it, the ex-con was thinking about that for the third time right at the moment.

"You could be heard from Mars," Mickey cut in, mocking the redhead. Of course, he caught Ian's nervous expression, and in his twisted way of thinking, he thought it would calm the redhead down. It was probably his fault for not muffling the redhead's sound. He was busy biting the soft spot under his jaw, and when he thought about it, that made Gallagher even louder. He could count himself lucky that they didn't come in fifteen minutes earlier and hear him instead of firecrotch.

"Your climax bark was exceptionally hard to miss too," Jimmy commented with a sneer, which would have earned him a punch if Ian wasn't still clinging onto Mickey like his life depended on it. But the ex-con's expression alone could still make Jimmy think twice before ever making any kind of comment again.

"How long are you guys gonna keep standing there?" Ian said, feeling cooler now. They four intruders left them alone after that.

"You know you have to let go at some point right?" Mickey asked, looking at Ian.

"Oh, right." Ian let go of his hold around the ex-con, then they both got up and got dressed.

"You'll stay for dinner, right?" Ian felt like he had to ask, hell, he had to ask.

Mickey paused for a little, thinking whether he should stay and risk killing himself or just run like hell, but the way Ian was looking at him just decided that for him. "If any emotional shit ever comes up, I'm gone."

* * *

They all sat at the table, having what might be the quietest dinner they'd ever had. Mickey and Carl just stuffed their faces with food. Jimmy and Debbie were pretending nothing ever happened. Lip just stared at his food. He didn't want it to go to waste as it would come back up the same path it went in anyway. He had lost all his appetite already and was afraid he might never get it back ever again. Ian just ate a little from time to time, still working out what he should say. No one had actually said anything. The silence was profound and oppressive. Half an hour had passed when Fiona decided to speak.

"How long have you two been a couple?"

In the instant that sentence was out to be heard, the whole scene just went frantic out of nowhere, and the next thing they were aware of was Mickey dragging himself to the front door with Ian on his back giving him a headlock. Because after Fiona asked the question, the ex-con choked out the food he was gnawing and abruptly stormed to the front door. Then Ian launched himself onto Mickey and slammed him hard onto the floor, scrambling for control and wincing when the older teen elbowed him hard in the gut.

"That didn't count as emotional shit," Ian pointed out the fact, still struggling to keep Mickey in a headlock while the ex-con was trying to crawl to the doorway.

"You remember the time when he got shot." Lip explained, like his own brother harmoniously strangling his favorite thug of all time at the moment was a very natural thing to perceive. It made the two snap out of their little world a bit and drew the rest of the flabbergasted souls' attention to Lip instead.

"Remember the time he got sent to juvie? The first time, when Monica turned up for Liam. I think it was a few months before that," he continued.

Mickey glared the 'You let go of me now before I rip your arms out' look at the redhead while Ian was giving him the 'I'm gonna chop your legs off if you dare leave me again' sort of stare. Ian released the headlock and they propped themselves up after they got their messages. One of the younger teen's arms was still wrapped around the ex-con's shoulders and his hands gripped at him tight enough to bruise as they walked back to the table.

"Was that when Kash shot him?" Fiona continued, turning to Ian, her expression was like one that could be found on a lost sheep.

"Yeah, he walked in on them and got jealous. It would be really stupid if he shot Mickey over a Snickers bar." Lip answered that for his brother, and his grateful brother gave him a glare for what might be a little bit too much of information in what he just said.

"He was jealous? Why would he be jealous? Wait. No. You weren't fucking Kash, were you? He's married, Ian." said Fiona with a whole lot of disappointment packed into her words.

Sure enough she didn't miss that. Ian thought, looking for a smart excuse to that. Unfortunately, there was none, so he must find a clever way to response to that instead, but then someone beat him to it.

"What is it with you and fucking married old farts anyway?" Mickey asked with blunt honesty.

"You mean there were more?" He was surprised even Lip didn't know that. Didn't they tell each other everything?

Mickey turned his head to the oldest Gallagher boy and jerked his head towards Jimmy, narrowing his eyes. "He fucked this dumbass's stupid dad while I was in juvie the second time." Then he looked at the disgust expression on Jimmy's face for a second. Why the dumbass decided to get his life fucked up by the Gallaghers was none of his business. Then he looked back at Ian, satisfied with the cross expression on the redhead's face.

"That was only a one-time thing, Mick, and don't look at me like you weren't the one who fucked Karen the second you were out," Ian retorted back, frowning, but then regretted his words when he remembered he hadn't got a chance to tell Lip about that, yet. "You did what?" Lip spat, slamming his hands down at the table, staring at Mickey with homicidal intention. "You goddamn son of a bitch fucked Karen? My Karen?" He got of his chair and stomped around the table, then grabbed on Mickey's shirt and slammed the ex-con into the kitchen wall. He raised his hand and tried to throw a punch at the slightly younger teen, but the target blocked it and Lip ended up being slammed onto the floor instead. The ex-con glared at him stonily with a don't-fuck-with-me-ever attitude.

Everyone thought Mickey was going to tear Lip's throat out, but the ex-con did nothing but pinning him down against the floor. "Calm the fuck down, will you? It wasn't my fucking idea. My brother thought that I should get laid after spending time in juvie and brought Karen to me. I didn't even throw my dick into her. That would be really stupid considering I would get infected or something. I just let her suck me off so it didn't look suspicious, and I still have no idea why everyone would want that, 'cause she wasn't that good. Your idiot brother here can do a far much better job." He explained sharply, omitting the fact that he should crush Lip for forgetting that he was fucking his sister quite regularly.

Ian wasn't expecting Mickey to admit to the last sentence, and it made him blush a little because the ex-con never gave him any real compliment before, certainly not in front of other people. He couldn't tell exactly why Lip seemed to calm down also. Maybe it was because Lip, too, tried to get Ian a blowjob by Karen once so maybe he could somehow relate to that brother-to-brother stuff.

Then Ian gave him an incredulous look, not understanding why Mickey went through all the troubles explaining things to his big brother. Mickey caught his gaze and just smirked back. The redhead thought it was weird but maybe his brother and the ex-con were like some sort of friends. Lip knew about him and Mickey for quite a long time and he still hadn't said a single word, and he covered up for them sometimes, which might be why the ex-con was trying to be nice to him, well, nicer than usual, which was still not nice at all, yet it surprised Ian to some extent.

Mickey just ignored all the glares everyone else was giving him and yawned. "Besides, it was your fault I got sent to juvie that second time." Mickey said with a smug look, directing it at Ian.

"That makes no sense no matter how many times you say it, Mickey." Ian rolled his eyes.

"You can't... you can't... you know... I don't want you to..." Mickey impersonated him, pulling his face, his voice high and waving idiotically.

He wasn't like that, was he? Ian pondered, frowning at the smirking ex-con, thinking of maybe getting a personality implant.

Then it just hit him. Ian hadn't realized before the very moment that Mickey still remembered those exact words Ian said that day, like it still haunted him until today.

"I can't believe you told Lip and not me. I think I deserved to know that he and you are. . . whatever the hell you are," Fiona said as they all continued eating again. "I'm not sure if I'm fine with the fact that my little brother is with the neighborhood thug. What exactly is it between you two anyway?"

"I don't really know. . ." Ian answered, feeling nervous like he'd just let his family down, but that was the truth. He was Mickey's and Mickey was his, that was how they defined it. But being Mickey's what? He didn't know, the ex-con never agree to anything beyond that. The redhead then shot a meaningful look in Mickey's direction, his cheeks turning red. He was hoping the ex-con would say something. But all Mickey did was letting out some sort of sarcastic grunt and then smirked. That was when Ian snapped. "Well, I know I'm yours and you're mine but what exactly are we to each other? You never agreed to be anything other than that."

"The answer is easy. You are the guy I fuck," the ex-con replied, looking pleased when the redhead shattered out of his nervous look and got angry instead.

Ian was pissed as hell. Why did Mickey say that in front of his whole family? He knew it was the ex-con's nature to be rude, but damn it, he was hoping Mickey to at least be quiet, not make it worse for him. He didn't want to give his family an excuse to break them up.

He thought about punching Mickey so hard that the ex-con would fly colliding with the wall and fall down the floor in a pile of broken limbs and bones. And he was about to do so, but then he stopped when he saw the ex-con pushing his tongue into the corner of his mouth and sneering mischievously at him.

That was when it hit Ian. Mickey referred to him as 'the' guy he fucked. At least he was admitting to his family that they were exclusive. He was nice to his brother when he should crack his head open. And the fact that he hadn't bolted yet confirmed that there was some kind of commitment here and that Mickey agreed to do what Ian asked of him. With Mickey being Mickey and Ian being Ian, that was their way of communication. Mickey could act in the all ever loving way of his anyway he wanted because Ian would somehow always be able to read the message behind it nevertheless.

With that in mind, Ian lowered his hand and rolled his eyes at Mickey, and then, out of nowhere, he grabbed Mickey's neck, pulling him closer with the strength he damn well possessed, and then crashed their lips together. Anybody would have thought that was suicidal, but Ian knew Mickey much better. It was their way of affection, showing it when the other didn't expect.

"What the hell?" Mickey said after he pushed Ian off the instant he knew what was going on, and then stared at the redhead with a dubious look. Everyone else was staring at them in massive amount of shock and astonishment, not having a single clue what the hell had just happened.

"You agreed to stay as long as there is no emotional shit involved. Kissing doesn't count as emotional shit," Ian replied, his face was in an expression like he thought he was the smartest person in the world, which earned him a punch in the arm. But then Ian latched onto Mickey with his whole body, tipping the chair he was sitting. They ended up rolling on the floor, Ian was smiling and trying to steal another kiss from Mickey but the ex-con didn't let him and was scowling hard at his passionate redhead, leaving the rest of them wondering even more what exactly the hell was going on.

"You two are really, really sick, you know that?" Lip was the first one to comment. "You both have like some twisted sense of romance that revolves around pain and violence. You take sarcasms like they are some sort of compliment. I've seen your kiss and it's like you want to kill each other off. The bites, the scratches, the bruises, argh. There was blood staining down your lips as you kiss for God's sake and neither of you seems to care. That can't be good."

That comment made them stop and turned their heads to the oldest Gallagher son, Mickey was on his elbows with Ian pinned underneath him. Ian just ignored the comment and while Mickey was still looking at Lip, the redhead propped his head up and stole a kiss from the ex-con, licking the blood off the corner of Mickey's mouth with a malicious gaze, which made the ex-con look down at him again, pulling a face.

Ian thought it was stupid how adorable Mickey looked with his nose scrunched up and his eyes narrowed. He thought it was the cutest thing ever, like ever, and this was Mickey he was thinking about, which made no sense at all. How could a guy make a scowling face look so fucking hot and attractive anyway?

In that moment when Mickey looked back at Ian, he felt like he was being drawn into the redhead, like the guy lying underneath him smiling like an utter moron was the most stunning thing he'd ever seen, which was very stupid, but he didn't care. It was a little moment like this that they both found so valuable, so precious, and so fragile. Like the world could fall beneath them and they wouldn't even have noticed.

After that Mickey just smirked like it was a natural thing for them to do as Ian's face continued showing that signature fucking idiot grin of his, looking so damn infuriatingly pleased.

"Judging from the amount of bruises and wounds, Ian seems to be far worse." Carl's remark earned him a glare from Debbie.

Then she turned to her newfound sadistic brother and said, "I hate to admit it but he is right. You hurt him pretty bad."

"It wasn't me. Most of them were already there when I found him," was all Ian had to say.

"And yet you still fucked him and gave him the scratch marks on his back and the bite marks that continue bleeding to this very moment." Debbie pointed out sarcastically. Seeing her kind-hearted brother out of his own character made her say things she didn't normally say. She didn't know when she had the time to notice all that though, maybe while she was screaming like there was no tomorrow.

"Do you love him?" asked Fiona, feeling the need to before her innocent little siblings proceeded further, looking straight at Ian. Mickey was already out of the kitchen towards the door when something stopped him.

"Yeah, I do," Ian answered, still lying on the floor, afraid to look at Mickey, so he just looked back at Fiona.

The ex-con just stood there like a stuffed grizzly bear staring blankly at the door, shocked, angry, nervous, agitated, bewildered, anxious, irritated, and, maybe happy? He felt like his heart suddenly stopped beating as the words echoed repeatedly in his mind. He hadn't blinked or moved a muscle. It was like a deer being stunned by headlights. Nobody had said any of those words to him before, not even his sister, and now the asshole was lying there admitting to his family that he loved him. A lot of thoughts went through his head at the moment that his brain felt like it was going to explode. He wanted to go back there and sucker punch Gallagher for that, but a little part of him wanted to let Ian know he felt the same. He bit his bottom lip hard as he absentmindedly turned back and looked at the redhead.

'This is bad. . .' He thought to himself.

It was until Ian glanced at him sideways and met his eyes that he finally pulled himself together and continued walking out the door.


	8. End of story

8. End of story

He left.

A couple of days had passed since Ian last saw him. He dropped by the Milkovich house on the third day and Mandy told him Mickey didn't come home so he went around looking for the ex-con.

As the week went by, he went to the dugouts, under the El, a dozen of bars, and still the ex-con was nowhere to be found. The redhead decided to pop round the Milkovich house once more and this time he went into his room, searching for traces of where he might have been. That was where he found his cell phone, which was overrun by his missed calls and messages.

He left.

He flopped down to the floor in a thud as he began to realize that. At first he thought it might just be a sick joke. Everything in the room was where they used to be. But then it hit him. Everything in the room was where they used to be, the exact same place they were last time he saw them the afternoon before his family knew about them. The ex-con hadn't come home, not since that day.

He left and took nothing with him, not his cell phone, not his wallet, nothing.

He didn't know what to do, his mind gone outright blank, and then a thin cry erupted from his throat, gaining in its intensity, and finally turned into a heart-wrenching scream. The head of the Milkovich family along with his sons caught him and threw him out of their house. Mandy called Lip and his older brother came to take what was left of him back to their house.

He couldn't believe he left.

For days, he lay on his bed, losing track of time. His stomach practically screamed at him, so empty that it was about to cave in on itself as he didn't eat anything since that day. His heart hurt him more than hunger or injuries ever could. It was a severe blow to him, tearing him apart from within.

For days, he kept staring lifelessly into space, racking his brain to find some answer, until the tears that used to stream down his cheeks ran dry. He wondered what he had done that was so wrong. Was it so wrong that he said those three words out loud? Was it so wrong that he wanted so bad to be with him? How could he do this to him? What was wrong with him that made him leave? It was one thing when the ex-con acted indifferently but he thought they went past that. Mickey seemed to open up to him more and more and that made him so unimaginably happy, and the ex-con seemed to be too. Then why? After all they had been through, why did he leave?

He hadn't spoken to anyone. He didn't even seem to blink, not once. His siblings were worried sick. They kept asking him what was wrong, consoling him once they knew what happened, but he didn't give back any response of any kind. They talked about getting him some help but decided not to when they realized that would only destroy him, if he hadn't been already. They brought food to him and took the slightly eaten rations as a good sign.

A few weeks passed by, and his siblings was devastated when they went into the room and all they found was his empty bed.

He was gone.

* * *

It was twenty years since he left. Twenty years after he decided to leave. His life was fucked up and there was nothing he could have done to change it. So he left, before he dragged the thing he cared about most down with him, before his own ruthless fate got a chance to fuck up the one person he loved more than anything.

He wandered around from one city to another, never stayed anywhere too long, and never talked to anyone more than a few sentences. It was twenty fucking years and he still couldn't get over him. He still felt the phantom of the wound whenever he was alone, heard his voice whenever it was quiet, and saw his face whenever he closed his eyes.

The air around him never seemed to get any easier to breathe, as if he was drowning all the time. His heartbeats still reminded him of Gallagher, and he hated every single one of them. They reminded him of what it felt like to have him close, being cuddled by him, his warm breath breezed against his neck, feeling their hearts beating almost in the same rhythm.

He hated that he still woke up, haunted by his past. He thought about killing himself sometimes, thinking it might end his misery, and every time, he chose not to. He deserved all of it, all of the agony, the despair, the wretchedness, the self-loathing, all of them.

The only thing that kept him sane was the thought of how the redhead's life would be much better now without him. He must be something big, maybe an officer he always talked about when they were still teenagers. He smiled at that thought. He knew Gallagher could achieve that. The mere thought of that shit-eating grin spreading across its owner's face made him feel warm from the inside. Of all the things he had done in his life, leaving the redhead was the one he was most proud of. It was the right thing for him to do. It was for the best.

He couldn't be more wrong.

* * *

For the past twenty years, Ian had done nothing but searching for the guy. It started when he decided he was done feeling sorry for himself. He had a promise to keep. He must hunt the ex-con down and drag him back into his life. He left everything behind and went out looking for him. Nothing else mattered anyway.

He had been to a lot of place, bar after bar, crack house after crack house, pissed off a lot of people along the process. His formerly flawless body was now filled with scars. He had aged up a lot, pursuing clue after clue as he tried to track him down. He clung to his promise, the promise he gave the bastard way back when things were good. Hope was the only thing that kept him going all these years, otherwise he would have taken his own life.

From time to time, he imagined what he would do when he found the fucker. Would he beat the crap out of him for making him feel like shit all these years? Would he pulled him into a kiss and pretend nothing ever happened? Or would he rip the asshole's heart out and leave him to die like he had done to him? What would he do if the asshole bolted again? What if he were dead? What would that leave him?

He was getting close, he could feel it. It was the final lead after all, his last chance of seeing the dickhead, his last chance of getting a closure. He went into an old abandon building. It was dark, so dark that he couldn't visibly see. He was about to give up, he couldn't take it anymore, but then he saw a dim silhouette moving.

Someone else was there.

He wanted so bad to rush in and see if it was the ex-con but was also afraid that the guy might run away, so he slowly sneaked up closer. He had already spent half of his life waiting for this moment, what about another second or two? He came closer until he could make out the guy's features more clearly in the dim lighting. The sight of the person sitting there with his back against a cold concrete wall was the greatest thing he had hoped to see over the years.

"Mickey."

The ex-con turned to look at the source of the voice, not believing his eyes for showing him what might be a ghost of his past. The person looked like the redhead, only with more years added to him and he seemed as though he hadn't slept well in decades. He looked like hell.

"Who's that?" He said in panic, struggling to get up on his feet, his face contorted in a twist of rage, fear and desperation.

"It's me, Mickey." Ian called his name as he reached out his hand, only to be pushed away by the ex-con.

"Don't come in any closer." Mickey declared, pulling out an army knife, moving away from the redhead.

"Come on, Mick. It's me, Ian, Ian Gallagher. Your firecrotch, remember?" Ian said, proceeding to get nearer.

"I said, stay the fuck away." He snarled. "This isn't real. . . It can't be. You are not here. You are supposed to be living a dream you always yapped about." The ex-con said, waving his knife, threatening to hurt what he thought was a hallucination in front of him.

"Is this real enough for you?" Ian said calmly as he gripped the knife by its blade, blood pouring down his hand, flowing along to the handle for the ex-con to feel. He pulled Mickey closer, putting his other hand around the shuddering ex-con.

"No. This isn't happening." Mickey muttered despondently, his voice shaken, dropping the knife to the ground. Ian's blood on his skin made him feel like his hand was burning, smoldering pain spreading throughout his body. "You aren't supposed to be here. You are supposed to forget I ever exist. You were supposed to be on your way to a fancy life, be great. You weren't supposed to follow me."

"Too late. I've already done that. End of story." The redhead tilted Mickey's face up to meet his eyes. "And I will not stop until you realize you are stuck with me whether you like it or not."

It was like all the floodgates had been open for the ex-con. He felt tears clogging up his eyes but refuse to come out, his insides twisting, like they were eating themselves, shivers ran all over every one of his nerves, like a torrent rain of fire. All the feelings and emotions suppressed inside him were overflowing, spilling out for the redhead to see. For what felt like a life-time, he couldn't believe Ian had found his way back into his life again. "You shouldn't have come. You shouldn't have done it, not for a fucked-up like me."

"You are worth every bit of it, Mick, and if you ever think about leaving me again, keep in mind that I might not have the strength left to survive it next time. Okay?"

.

.

"Okay."


	9. Just kill me

**9. Just kill me**

"Mickey. . ."

"Okay."

"Mickey. . . Just kill me. Please, Mickey. . . Mickey!"

"Nargh!" He was torn out of his sleep and was wide awake after that. Ian was fidgeting, murmuring things he couldn't comprehend, gripping at his flesh and hugging him so tight that his lungs felt like they were going to collapse.

He tried to shake him hard, jolt him harder, but seeing those didn't work, he switched to shouting a peaceful yell instead.

"Gallagher, wake the fuck up!"

Ian snapped out, presumably from his nightmare, opened his eyes and blinked at the agitated teen in front of him, relaxing his hold a little before realizing where he was and constricted his limbs around the ex-con again, possibly hard enough to suffocate him this time.

He didn't know what Gallagher's dream was about, but he knew his. He was still shivering when he thought about it. It was like the redhead inceptioned him or some shit, planting the idea in his mind that he must not leave, no matter how fucked up they got. It was creepy, real creepy, creepier than waking up in the middle of the night to see that Carl was watching him sleep with his little psychotic eyes, and that sure said a lot.

* * *

A few weeks after that eventful dinner, Ian finally succeeded in convincing Mickey to spend the nights at his house. It was weird, really weird for the ex-con as school was off and Ian was virtually right by his side, all the time. They slept together now, not slept together as in fucked a hell of their brains out, but slept together as in literally slept together, the whole snuggling and cuddling and all those stupid shits. The redhead clung to him tight like a man-sized koala and he woke up with more bruises every day. He really hated that, except it was the best feeling in the world, Ian curling up around him. He even talked Mickey into taking a shower with him on just about a daily basis and, hell, his body was spotless right then. He blamed the fact that the bathroom seemed to be the only fucking room in the shithole that had some sort of privacy tied to it, well, not much, but some.

Ian couldn't be happier. It was like everything he'd ever dreamt of, except that it wasn't. There were no dating, no going out for a movie, no flirting, no hugging, no holding hands, no holding back, and, most importantly, no emotional shits. Just two people enjoying each other's company, kissing while trying to suck each other's insides out, biting, bruising, marking their territories on the other's body, and, of course, fucking until they passed out, the usual stuffs. They fucked face-to-face most of the time now, except in the shower, or when they were in a hurry, or when they were too horny, which were not that often considering they made time to fuck at least three times a day. Ian had to make the trip to a local STD clinic once a week, for free condoms, they would have gone broke otherwise. But it made him happy that his dick was really happy, and with Mickey agreeing to be top every once in a while, that little sweet spot inside Ian could not get happier either. The thing he was happy most about was the fact that Mickey hardly ever kicked him off his bed after fucking now. He couldn't think of any better way to sleep other than curling up around the ex-con and putting his face into the crook of his neck, and sometimes, the older teen "subconsciously" wrapped his arms around him in his sleep, like the ex-con couldn't let go of Ian either, and that made him feel like he was on top of the world.

Lip had moved to sleep in the van for a while now. It prevented him from having to see or hear or smell things that arouse his urge to commit suicide. Ian was really pleased to see that his big brother could eat properly again after a month or so, before this he only ate occasionally and very little at a time, saying he didn't want to throw away good food. He was glad too that his fuckbuddy and his older brother were getting along well together, like the time Mickey didn't bust his brother's head open for making Mandy cry, or the time when Lip accidentally ate his fuckbuddy's Jell-O and didn't get stabbed with a fork. But seriously, they tried to be nicer to each other, for Ian. Their activities revolved around getting high, getting drunk, playing video games while being high and drunk, selling joints and booze so that other people could get high and drunk. Maybe someday, who knew, they might find other ways to tolerate each other that didn't involve jeopardizing their health too.

Carl, on the other hand, had no trouble sharing the same breathing space with the ex-con. They actually had something in common to talk about. Carl once told Ian that Mickey was like a brother he never had, that he loved Lip, Ian and Liam to death and Jimmy was great and all, but he felt that he could relate to the ex-con more as they shared much the same interests. Their conversations were mostly about how to fuck up someone's wellbeing, what is the best thing to smack one's head with, how to effectively shatter other people's kneecaps, which bones made the most delightful sound when cracked, and many other lovely topics that might almost certainly churn average person's stomach. There was one time when his little brother followed Mickey who was asked by Jimmy to collect some debts some scumbags owed him and ended up helping the ex-con put a few people in the hospital. They talked about it for days and Fiona was furious as hell when she found out, which kind of encouraged them even more, until Ian intercepted of course.

Debbie found her way around him. Being Miss Congeniality as she was, she could find a way to be nice to anyone. No matter if that particular someone had a habit of vigorously ignoring her and not letting himself be seen anywhere near her alone. But she just ignored him back and kept telling him about herself, what she did that day, what movie she wanted to see, and other girly stuffs he didn't give two shits about, but he listened nonetheless. The redhead knew this because on Debbie's last birthday, he told Mickey he didn't know what he should get her, and the ex-con didn't respond or anything. He just left the house and, about an hour later, a DVD just appeared out of nowhere and collided with the back of Ian's head. Mickey told him that she was like a smaller, yappier, bitchier version of him, and the redhead knew that basically meant he liked her a lot.

Fiona was reluctant at first, the way she still kind of was until this very day. She didn't understand how all of her siblings could relax around him, not counting Liam because he was just a baby and babies couldn't hate anyone, could they? Anyway, she didn't mind having him around as he had his own way of helping around the house, making Ian happy and satisfying his needs, smacking Lip's head whenever he needed it, keeping Debbie company, being a role model to Carl, helping Jimmy with his business, and scaring the hell out of Frank and people who were dim-witted enough to loan him money.

* * *

"The fuck's wrong with you?" asked the exasperated ex-con, trying to free himself from being squeezed to death.

Ian loosened up a bit. "Uh. . . nightmare?" He answered with a befuddled look on his face.

"I figured as much, firecrotch." Mickey pulled a face.

"You wanna know what it was about?" The redhead shot him a meaningful glance.

"You outta your mind?" The older teen countered him with an incredulous look.

"Stranger things do happen." Ian rolled his eyes right after that.

"In case you haven't noticed, talking about dreams sorta falls into the category of fucking stupid emotional shits." The ex-con explained ever so gently.

"Just trying to make conversation, Mick. It happens sometimes," said a scowling Ian.

"That's not a conversation," Mickey said, 'I'm annoyed as hell right now' was written all over his face. "It's a test of how much I can put up with you before I bite your head off."

"That's not stupid, and you know it." The redhead made his case, scrunching up his face.

Mickey fixed him with a half-hearted glare. He tried not to but he somehow found the pouting redhead adorable. He hated himself for that.

"You know you wanna hear it." Ian's lips tensed up, holding back a smile.

"You know, Gallagher, I hate you. I fucking hate you." The ex-con said with so much determination in his voice.

"You know you like me, Mick. And you know damn well that you wanna know what I dreamt about."

"You know what, just shut up. Just. . . shut the fuck up."

"But I didn't tell you my nightmare yet."

Dramatic pause.

"Gallagher. . ." Mickey tried to find something clever to say, anything, but with Ian just stared at him with those wide Bambi-like eyes of his, he decided to crash his head into the wall and fall right back to sleep instead, thinking maybe his nightmare wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

**I just thought about what I wrote in the previous chapter and how it might have confused you guys. I want to tell you that I didn't mean to mislead you or anything. Okay, maybe a little. Please don't kill me. It was just a dream. For fudge cake, I was about to change the genre to Romance/Humor instead of just Romance before I got the idea. Also, I may or may not have Ian's version of his dream too, and it may or may not involve the whole world got taken over by zombies and Ian got bitten and begged Mickey to slay him before he chomped him down like a humanwich, which sure enough Mickey refused, but that's a whole different story. By the way, did anyone fall for that? Anyone? Huh? Huhhh? Never mind. I already know some of you guys did. And again, please don't kill me.**


	10. Is that good or bad?

**Some more fluff.**

* * *

**10. Is that good or bad?**

It was a Sunday morning. Ian was studying on his single bed, lying on his front with a bunch of pillows supporting his upper body, trying hard to concentrate through all the pleasant-sounding noise from downstairs. It had been a long time since he last studied for West Point because there were always some "distractions." He was trying the best to read as peacefully as he could when he heard a click from the doorknob.

The door swung open to reveal a rather lethargic-looking Mickey who slowly walked behind him and went away from his sight. He had been out all night "spending quality time with his family", whatever the hell that meant. Ian thought the ex-con was going to fetch something and then go back out because Mickey wasn't the type that study. He realized he was wrong when he felt the bed shifting and the ex-con's dropping his weight over his body.

"What are you doing?" asked the redhead with a questioning look.

"What do you think? I need a nap," replied the torpid ex-con, not returning his look.

"And it has to be on my body?" Ian's eyebrows went so high on his forehead.

"You said your bed is mine." Mickey pointed out, shifting his weight to get more comfortable.

"Stop harassing me. I'm trying to study," persisted Ian.

". . .," ignored Mickey.

Ian sighed and then said, "I need to study, Mickey." Ian could tell that the ex-con was a little bit drunk, or he wouldn't be having this conversation and would be kicked off his own bed slumping on the floor by now.

"And I need a nap. I won't bother you. Just need to lie down." And he did. He just sprawled there on top of Ian, his hands lay on their sides, chin resting on the younger teen's shoulder and face buried into the pillow under Ian.

"I think your cock that is now nudging into my ass disagrees." Ian said rather loudly into Mickey's ear.

"Go on talking and I'll cut your fucking tongue out." And just like that, he heard a snore coming from the ex-con. Ian rolled his eyes at him, knowing he wouldn't see it but felt the need to anyway, and continued reading the book in front of him. It felt nice though, the feeling of Mickey sleeping on top of him, his heart beating against his back, the warmth from his body, even the sound of him snoring. Tipsy Mickey was cute, a little bit chatty and clingy and Ian loved him being like this too, among many others.

* * *

"Mickey. Mickey."

"Whaaat?" Mickey groaned sleepily.

"I need to piss." Ian whispered to him.

"Why are you telling me? Just go."

"Okay." A moment after the ex-con heard that, he was lying on the floor by the bed, wondering what the hell just happened. He then propped himself up on his elbow, rubbing sleep off his eyes, still not fully awake yet. Then he heard the toilet flushing, and when he looked up, he saw the redhead coming in through the door, looking down at him.

The older teen frowned back. "Well, you said 'just go', so I did." Ian said with a mocking smile, then lifted Mickey up on the bed again and rolled him to his earlier position.

"Now I need to go." Ian rolled his eyes and pulled Mickey up. He grabbed him by the shoulders and slowly guided the ex-con to the bathroom.

"You need to let go of me."

"Why? You might fall." Mickey didn't answer, just looked down to his crotch. Ian put his chin on Mickey's shoulder to follow his sight and then he knew what Mickey meant. "Oh, sorry," he said, letting go of the ex-con. "Just think, Lip fucking Mandy."

That worked like a charm. Two minutes after, they were on the bed facing down again, except this time, Ian was on top of Mickey, who was still too heavy-eyed to resist. "The fuck are you doing?" Mickey asked as Ian forced his head up from the pillow.

"You are gonna help me study." The younger teen said uncompromisingly. It wasn't a request, it was an order.

"The hell I will." The ex-con retorted, planting his face back into the pillow.

"I'll reward you nicely." Ian whispered with an ungodly low voice before nipping his earlobe, nudging his own erection against Mickey's ass, grabbing the poor ex-con's dick with one hand and playing with his nipples with the other. He grinned maliciously when he felt Mickey twitching underneath him, letting out an involuntary moan. The ex-con didn't even have the slightest chance.

"Now who's. . . harassing. . . who?" Mickey stuttered, turning his head to face the redhead. That was when Ian fixed their lips together, slid in his tongue and sucked Mickey's tongue into his mouth while his hand started pumping the dick in its clutch, fast, rough and merciless, the other hand still toying with the hardened nipples, and pounding the ex-con's crotch into the bed. He swallowed the loud moan escaping from the ex-con's mouth and after about a minute, could feel the stickiness in his hand. To Mickey's credit, he was still sleepy so he couldn't restrain himself longer than that.

"Thought you were gonna wait till after I help." The ex-con said, freeing his mouth, panting.

"That was nothing compared to what I'm gonna do to you after you help." Ian said with an ever lower and even fiendishly huskier voice, which made the ex-con's eyes grow the size of Jell-O cups.

"Oh, really?" The ex-con said as he reached his hands behind him, grabbed the dick behind him with one hand and grabbed Ian's ass with the other, then started moving, no need to comment after that.

* * *

Sometime later.

"Ian," Fiona called as she barged into the bathroom. That was the kind of privacy you got in the Gallagher house.

"Fi? What do you want?" Ian asked, poking his face out of the shower curtain.

"You seen Mickey?" asked the intruder.

"Oh, he's-" Ian bit his own bottom lip and shut his eyes closed before he could finish the sentence.

"You two come down when you're done, okay?" She said with a smug face.

"Ohmfkhm" was a response from Ian.

* * *

Mickey came down the stairs first but paused when he saw Mandy and all members of the Gallagher clan waiting for them in the kitchen. He was about to run right back up when he heard, "Don't be a dick. Just come down, assface."

"The hell's going on?" He asked with a bit of fear from his voice.

"I found this." She said, looking kind of smug she must get it from Lip, shoving a brown envelope into his hands.

"GED results. Mickey, you took the test?" asked Ian.

"Yeah, while I was in juvie."

"Open it already. I have other stuffs to do." Carl whined.

"So you all can have a good laugh. I don't think so." Mickey grimaced.

"Oh, come on. We're here to support you." Lip said, rather sarcastically, but meant every word.

"Nah, already know I fail." Support him? Really?

"I'll do it then." Debbie said, snatching it from his hands and ripped it open. Mandy, Lip, and Carl went behind her with curiosity. There were a lot of "Wow"s and "Whoa"s and "I can't believe it"s after that.

"What does it say?" Ian took it from Debbie. "You scored a total of 3410!?".

"Is that good or bad?" asked the ex-con, narrowing his eyes and his head lolling sideways.

"It's 85.25% of a perfect score. Great job, man." Lip commented, punching him lightly on the arm.

"I know you can do it." Debbie said with a big smile, giving him a hug. Mandy did, too. Lip gave him a pat on the shoulder. Fiona was looking at him proudly. Carl just gave him a weird, sardonic look. Apparently, everyone was happy for him. He didn't know how to react. He'd never made anyone happy before, well, except Ian maybe. He turned to look at the redhead but then regretted his action when he saw a classic fucking idiot grin and those archetypal puppy-dog eyes looking at him so contently. 'What the fuck's happened to my life?' he thought to himself, rolling his eyes.


	11. For what?

**11. For what?**

It had been a long week for Ian. He just got back from an ROTC camping trip, which, as much as he enjoyed it, he got to admit that he felt as if it had torn some life out of him. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in a whole week and his ride back dropped him off at six in the morning for cripes sake. He tiredly dragged himself to his bedroom and let his body flop face-planted his bed as there was a possibility that his bones and muscles were going to dissolved into a nauseating puddle of mush if he didn't lie down immediately.

"Hey, little brother. Nice to see you back." Lip's voice was coming from the top bunk. Apparently, his brother returned to his rightful bed now that Mickey went back to sleep at his house while Ian was away.

"Yeah, nice to be back." The redhead mumbled the words out.

"How was your trip?" The voice kept coming, and it seemed to get more irritating every second.

"Great, but it totally drained me out." Ian said, and then flipped himself to lie on his back.

"Glad to see you are still into the army stuffs." Lip just earned a glare this time. How could his brother not see that he was completely out of it and needed to get some sleep at the moment? The redhead thought.

"Glad you are glad about that." Ian said sarcastically, putting a pillow over his face.

"Of course, 'cause I thought you are not into those things anymore."

"What made you think that?" The redhead slid the pillow down slightly as he raised his eyebrows.

"Well, you don't come to me for a tutor session lately, so I thought you were giving up West Point." Lip explained as he climbed down and sat up on the desk.

"I went to a camp, remember?" The degree of sarcasm went up a notch.

"No, it was long before that. You know we haven't reviewed any geometry theorems for like a couple of months now?" Lip's face looked serious, so serious it made Ian flinch a little.

"Oh," Ian's face fell a tad before he continued. "About that, I don't see why I wanna go there anymore, so I guess I'm not going." He admitted to it.

"But you put so much effort to it before. What's changed?" Lip turned into his concerning big brother mode the moment he heard that.

"I've already made up my mind. I don't wanna talk about it. I'm exhausted as hell and a little cranky so please just let me sleep. Okay?" Ian tried to get out of the conversation. He didn't want Lip to make a big deal out of it which he definitely would if he knew that Mickey was sort of the main reason he didn't want to leave Chicago anymore.

"But are you sure-" Lip was cut off before he could finished his argument.

"I said I don't wanna talk about it. Fuck, this damn boner just won't go down. Maybe I'm not as tired as I thought. Not getting laid for a whole week really makes me horny. Would you mind if I call Mickey over for a massive fucking session? You know, so he could squeeze his hot tight ass around my cock over and over, so hard and rough and brutal that it will think twice before coming between me and my sleep again."

Lip was far gone after that.

* * *

Around noon that same day, Lip came by the Milkovich's house. It was Mandy who answer the door and she was surprised to find out that her fuckbuddy wanted to see her brother and not her.

"Assface! Lip's here to see you." Her door-penetrating yell was directed towards Mickey's room.

"Fuck off," The ex-con shouted back, sounded sleepy, not including that his voice was kind of muffled by the pillow, but still full of abundant irritation.

"Maybe you should come back later," Mandy said, giving him the unless-you-want-to-get-fucking-killed look.

"It's okay. I'll just get in and see how it goes," Lip said unconcernedly. He had some information he was sure the ex-con would find interesting.

"You sure? He's really an outstanding asshole when he is sleepy, the kind that rips your head from your body," Mandy warned. She wasn't sure if Lip knew how bad Mickey could get when someone tried to separate him from his precious sleep.

"Yeah," he replied nonchalantly and then went on opening the door to the ex-con's room, ignoring the sign that clearly spelled 'Keep the fuck out'.

"Mickey, I need to talk to you." Lip declared with a steady voice as he closed the door.

"You know it'd better be important for the sake of your own fucking fate right?" Mickey snorted out, lying in bed on his front, his head slowly turned sideways to look at Lip, narrowing his eyes.

"Just wanna tell you that Ian told me he decided not to go to West Point after all." was Lip's answer.

"And why the fuck do you think I would give a shit about that?" Mickey scoffed with a customary scowl on his face.

"Thought you might wanna know. I mean it's all my brother ever talked about for quite some time and now that you're back, suddenly he said he doesn't want it anymore. You know I really love the idea of Ian not getting his ass shot at some foreign country, but he deserves to get out from this stupid fucking south side." He paused for a bit to let his point sink in. "And I thought you might have some comments about it. That's all I gotta say. See you."

Mickey grunted at Lip as he turned around and walked out of the room.

* * *

He tried not to think about it, but it bothered the hell out of the ex-con that the thought that maybe the redhead stopped trying to find his way out because of him bothered him at all. He tried to go back to sleep as he preferred to deal with it later when his head was clearer, but evidently that wasn't doable.

Ian showed up at the Milkovich house that afternoon. Mickey was waiting, gnashing his teeth. After being unable to resume sleeping, he had plenty of time to figure out what he wanted to say to the redhead when he showed up. As soon as the redhead was in his room, he shoved the younger teen to the wall and pinned him there, glaring daggers at him.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Ian, who had no idea why Mickey seemed to be enraged at him.

The ex-con didn't reply, just kept staring heatedly, like if he did it correctly, the redhead was going to burst into flames. He didn't want to sound like he cared about the redhead's well-being or anything.

After some moments, Ian finally worked it out. "Lip told you, didn't he? I already told him that this is my decision. I decided not to go because I finally learned that I don't have to get away from here to be happy." I wanna be with you.

Ian didn't know why but somehow Mickey made it seem like he was constantly trying to find a good reason to break them off, like he didn't want to be with Ian the way Ian wanted to be with him. It made him feel like he was losing his sanity every time he wanted to express his feelings so bad but couldn't because the ex-con might use it as an excuse to bolt again. He never said it for anyone to hear but he was scared to death that night he admitted that he loved Mickey because the ex-con looked like he would leave and never come back again.

Ian had known for a while now that he would give up all of his hopes and dreams, everything to tell the truth, if the ex-con ever asked him to. He decided to give up the army for Mickey anyway, even though he didn't ask. He wanted to be with Mickey. He didn't know the ex-con would hold it against him like this.

The ex-con looked deadpanned as he said that, but then there came the response. "Fuck you. I've said it many times already and I'm gonna say it again. You are a colossal idiot, Gallagher. You got a good chance to get out but you're gonna throw it away. For what? This shithole doesn't deserve you." I don't deserve you. The last part never left his tongue. He tried to keep his voice calm, belying the emotions simmering underneath.

Ian wanted so bad to yell out loud that it was because he wanted to be with him, because he couldn't imagine leaving this shithole now that what he loved most was there, because he couldn't imagine doing anything better than lying with his arms wrapped around him and his face nudging into his neck. But as those words sank in, he slowly began to realize why the ex-con always did that.

He always thought that it was because still rejected the idea of them having some sort of relationship. Maybe some part of Mickey felt that Ian wasn't enough, but it was the exact opposite. It was because somehow, in Mickey's way of thought, he never felt like he deserved Ian.

He wanted to punch the ex-con hard in the face the moment he realized that, because, sure, he wanted to join the army because of some patriotic part of him, but the reason he wanted to get out of this shitty south side in the first place was because of the slight chance that maybe if they both got out together, maybe then the ex-con wouldn't feel like the thing they had was threatening to crush them into the ground anymore, that maybe if Ian could somehow get Mickey to go with him, they could be together forever and nothing would ever be able to come between them again. Only he hadn't had the nerve to ask that of Mickey that he decided to stay instead.

It always amazed Ian how observant Mickey could be while pretending he didn't notice anything. Mickey seemed to catch every emotion ever flickered on Ian's face, to hear every words Ian hadn't said, to see Ian's thought through his eyes. The only thing that seemed to be obscured to Mickey was the reason why Ian loved him. It made Ian feel like dying inside that after all he'd done, he was still unable to make Mickey realize what he meant to him, how important he was to him, how he would give up everything just to be with him.

That very moment was the moment Ian decided that it would be his lifetime goal to make Mickey understand, to make him realize why there hadn't been and would never be anyone who deserved him more. Sometimes he just wanted to just explain it to Mickey but, knowing the ex-con, he wouldn't believe him anyway. So he settled on the idea that maybe if he just thought about it hard enough, Mickey would eventually understand.

A powerful tension hung in the air around them. Stress and desperation practically radiated out as Ian finally said. "You're stuck with me." I'm not going anywhere.


	12. Don't mind at all

**12. Don't mind at all**

Mickey gritted his teeth and clenched his hands unyieldingly that his tattooed knuckles turned white. He could only stare at Ian for a while after he heard the uncharacteristic desperation in Ian's voice when he said those words, before his brain kicked in and he narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"Get the fuck out!" he snarled belligerently, trying his damnedest to hide the conflict that was overwhelming him. He couldn't leave Ian, not anymore that he was aware of what would happen if he dares to leave, but that didn't mean he couldn't make Ian leave him. He wasn't any good for the redhead to be around, if anything, he would only be a dead weight, a burden that held him down, preventing him from all the great things he could achieve in life. The fact that the redhead gave up the army just proved that to him.

He knew he shouldn't have cared. Ian wasn't supposed to make him care. He hated himself that he did. He knew for quite some time now that he was in too deep. He did care about the redhead, more than he ever cared about anything, more than his very own existence. He hated it, hated how he always thought about Gallagher first. If he didn't, he would have no problem with Ian staying.

But he did. It troubled him a lot that Ian was ready to give up his dream for him. He wanted the redhead to have everything. He wished he could give Gallagher everything, because that was what the redhead deserved, everything. But he couldn't, he knew he couldn't, he was fucked for life. The best thing he could do was getting out of the way, but he couldn't do that either. He had made the redhead a promise, a promise to stay, and Ian had made him a promise too, a promise to go after him if he ever leave.

"No!" The redhead shouted back with a relentless voice. "You can't make me. I won't." Not without you.

Mickey just glared into Ian's eyes, and what he saw was unbearable. The pain, panic, desolation, fear, and many other emotions he couldn't name, they were all there for him to see, and they were exceedingly heart-wrenching. He remembered the time when he wanted to punch that pretty face so hard that it turned into something raggedy and unrecognizable. Part of him wished he could do that, but he couldn't. It was pathetic. There was no way he could hurt Ian, and there he was with a heartbroken face. It hurt him just having to see the redhead in that look. He threw out a punch, and it collided with the door behind Gallagher.

When a fist connected with the door a few inches from his head, Ian almost lost his nerve. The ex-con's expression turned unreadable as he continued punching the innocent door again and again, until his knuckle was covered with blood and he still didn't stop. What he did in response after being stunned for a few seconds was tackling Mickey onto the floor, and curling himself around his body, holding him tight, hoping it would calm him down.

When he fell against the floor, it hurt, and then the pain faded away. When he punched the door continually, it hurt, but then his hand went numb. When Ian insisted to be with a fucked-up like him, it hurt, like hell it hurt, and it didn't go away. Why couldn't he just let the redhead be with him? He was happy. He knew he was happy. He knew he didn't know a lot of things and he knew he never had the clearest idea of what joy or happiness were like, but to the best of his knowledge, the happiest time in his life was with Ian. Why couldn't he just live like that?

Maybe it was because he knew it was just a matter of time before some homophobic scumbags found out about them and made their lives a living hell. Maybe it was because of the fear that someday Ian would get fed up by the fact that he couldn't give him what he deserved and leave him all alone. Maybe it was because he knew Ian would never leave him and the idea of the redhead staying in this shithole with him forever was tearing him apart.

Ian turned his head to look at the ex-con, and the expression on his face was twisted by so many feelings, like Mickey had just lost it. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought the ex-con was going to cry. Mickey was panting while staring at the ceiling like he was begging it to give him some answer, any answer, and Ian wished he could give him that.

Ian didn't realize before that Mickey care about his dream this much. When he told the ex-con about it, all he did was giving him some comments from time to time about how he would get shot or injured. He knew Mickey was worried, so he thought the ex-con would be pleased when he decided not to go. Clearly, he was wrong.

Mickey wanted him to follow his dream. That was. . . beyond what he ever could have imagined. The ex-con knew going to West Point was important to him, and though he didn't like it, he wanted Ian to have it anyway. That just filled Ian's heart. The thing Mickey didn't know was in every single one of his dreams, Mickey was there with him. He pressed his forehead against Mickey's temple and shifted his body to embrace him tighter, tangling his legs with the ex-con's as he felt his tears of joy starting to form in his eyes.

The ex-con didn't know if Ian knew this, but he had just wiped out all the conflict in his mind by merely holding him. It soothed him like nothing else could. That was when he made up his mind and finally said, "I can, and you will." The words came out harsh and death-defying as he wanted them to be, because right then, his sanity just came back to him.

Ian was scared at first when he heard Mickey said that, but when the ex-con glanced sideways to meet his eyes, he realized what Mickey meant, and Ian breathed out a sigh of relief, not even realizing he had been holding his breath. His shit-eating fucking idiotic grin, as the ex-con would say, was starting to flood out all over his face. He didn't know the word that would be enough to describe what he was experiencing, but if he had to put down in words, it would be a complete ecstatic delightful euphoric jubilation or something of the sort.

It was the only logical thing to do. Mickey didn't know how Ian was able to do it, or if he was aware of it at all, but Gallagher was capable of pulling the sad kicked-puppy look that made Mickey feel like there was nothing he wouldn't do for Ian, and it sure was damn well effective even when the redhead didn't use it to his full capacity. As gay as it sounded in his mind, that moment was the moment he decided to go with Ian wherever he wanted him to. There was nowhere else he'd rather be anyway.

That expression of Ian's fitted its owner's face like nothing else could ever do. That smile, that voracious, thoughtless, maniacal, imbecile, flawless, wonderful, unspoiled smile. As much as Mickey hated to admit it, even to himself, he had come to love it. It made him want to grin like an dim-witted idiot every time he saw it, though he never did, not while he was alive, at least that was what he kept telling himself.

Like Ian could read his mind, his grin just got wider as he let out a chuckle.

"Shut the fuck up before I shut it for you." Mickey said as he wiped out tears from the corners of Ian's eyes with his non-bleeding hand.

"Can't help. Contentment overload." was Ian's lame excuse.

"You know you're fucked, right?"

"Don't mind at all as long as you are the one who fucks me. And you're fucked too, by me." The redhead said with a laugh, humoring him and crushing his face into Mickey's adoringly. Who would have minded that the person whom you cared about most and who cared about you most FUCK U-UP, right?

"You are fucking weird, firecrotch." The ex-con said, rolling his eyes.

'And you still love me anyway,' was written all over Ian's face when Mickey's eyes returned to look at him. It made the older teen flinch a little when he saw that. How could Gallagher say that with a simple look? But then again, how could he know what the redhead was saying through his look? Gallagher was right, he was miserably fucked by the stupid redhead with a shit-eating grin. Who would have thought he, Mickey Milkovich, would be overthrown by a mere sanguine simpleton with a shit-eating grin named Ian Gallagher?

But it wasn't bad, not bad at all. For once, he let out a small chuckle, wrapping his arms around Ian as he did so.


	13. And now

It's not finished yet, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to upload on Christmas.

* * *

**13. And now**

"Why am I here again?"

"For the hundredth time, stop whining. I don't even care if I'm gonna get a black eye over this. Just stop. We're here 'cause Debs succeeded in guilting Fiona to let Jimmy pay for a full-blown Christmas at our house. Fi, Ian and Mandy are at home cooking. Jimmy took Debs and Carl out for gifts. And for some fucked-up reason, I'm here getting the tree and decorations with you. How Ian managed to convince you to participate is still beyond my understanding, though."

#

"How did you do it?"

"What? Oh. I just rubbed a lot of spice all over before I stuffed in the filling, that's all."

"Ew, gross. You don't have to give me that many details."

"Well, you asked me, and that's how you turn a wild animal into something delicious."

"And don't use those words, please. I'm losing my appetite already."

"How else should I put it? It's a turkey. You don't lose your appetite over a yummy turkey."

A pause.

"That's what you were talking about? I didn't mean the turkey, you idiot. I was asking you how you got my brother into this whole Christmas thing."

"Oh, that. You don't really wanna know."

"Of course I do. You know what I did? I told Lip he could either get on board or get used to fucking his right hand."

#

Lip: "I can't believe Mandy threatened to withhold sex if I didn't get on board. You believe her?"

Mickey: "That sure sounds like my sister."

Lip: "So. . . What is at stake if you didn't come along?"

Mickey: "You're not kidding about a black eye, huh?"

#

Mandy: "Come on. Tell me. Did you threaten to hold back sex like I did?"

Ian: "I may be gay but I'm still a guy, Mands. We don't hold back sex, ever."

Mandy: "Then what was it you did?"

Ian: ". . ."

Mandy: "Come on! We're best friends, and best friends tell each other everything, right?"

Ian: "I told him if he didn't help, the only fucking he was gonna get was for him to fuck me."

A set of eyes grew the size of pancakes.

Mandy: "And that worked? Wow, didn't know my brother really likes being bottom."

Ian: "Shhh. Don't tell anyone, okay? Mickey will rip my tongue off if he knows I told you."

Mandy: "Nah. He loves your tongue too much."

Ian: "Yeah, maybe you're right. But he might never fuck me ever again."

Mandy: "You two seriously like being bottom that much, huh?"

Ian: "The funny thing is neither of us had been bottom before we began fucking each other."

Mandy: "Then how do you know other guys won't do a better job?"

Ian: "Trust me when I say your brother is very good. Dreadfully brilliant, that is. He never misses."

Mandy: A thoughtful pause. "Huh? Then I guess you must be really good too. Even though your brother's not. Did I mention it sucks that you're gay?"

Ian: "Like, a thousand times."

Mandy: "You should give me a chance. I bet I can turn you."

Ian: "No offense, but I don't think you can compete with your brother in that area of expertise."

Fiona: "What are you two talking about?"

Ian: "Nothing."

Mandy: "Ian, I'm your big sister. You can talk to me about anything."

Ian: "Fine. We were talking about how me, Mandy, Mickey and Lip are in the sack. Care to join us?"

#

Lip: "Okay, okay. I'm just trying to be your friend, and friends talk about this kind of stuff to get things off their chests. You know, let out some steam before it explodes."

Mickey: A dark glance, then a sigh. "He told me he wouldn't do something I like if I didn't chip in."

Lip: "So he did threaten you? And what exactly would that something be?"

Mickey: A murderous look.

Lip: "Fine. Tell me. Don't tell me. I don't care."

Mickey: "On second thought, that something would be fucking me up the ass."

#

Fiona: "As a matter of fact, I will."

Ian: "All right. Where was I? Ah, yes. I was telling Mandy that no matter how much she tries, she won't be able to satisfy me the way Mickey does. I mean, the way his tight, lovely ass clenches around my cock, milking it, is extremely incredible. Not to mention it is magical how his eager, hot cock manage to hit my sweet prostate every single time he fiercely thrusts into my insatiable ass."

Mandy: "Again, ewwwww."

Ian: A smug look.

Fiona: "Fair enough. My turn. I must admit that Jimmy and I haven't reach that point yet but that's not a problem because I can guide his cock into my vagina just fine. In fact, it's more like I fuck him than he fucks me. You know, the way I push my vagina down to his base and clench. You can ask him."

Ian: A now-feeble smug look.

#

Mickey: "Here, drink some fucking water."

Lip: "Thanks. I sometimes overestimate my stomach's ability. I thought it was getting better."

Mickey: A grunt.

Lip: "So I guess this is our tree."

Mickey: "You bet. And you better clean it up 'cause I'm not gonna be responsible for what you did."

Lip: "Hey, it was your fault."

Mickey: Another murderous look.

Lip: "Fine. I'll clean it. But we still have to shop for lights and ornaments, though."

Mickey: "Just get that pile of junk. The dumbass gave you plenty, didn't he?"

Lip: "Yeah. Also, we have to shop for gifts. I don't know about you but Mandy promised a special treatment if I put a considerable thought to the presents."

Mickey: A contemplative silence.

Mickey: "Okay, I'm in."

#

Mandy: "You're really inspiring. I wish I could do that."

Fiona: "You'll get there. Practice makes perfect."

Ian: "And you do practice a lot, don't you?"

Fiona: "Said a guy who fucks at least five times a day."

Ian: "At least I fuck with only one person."

Fiona: "Hey, that was uncalled for. Jimmy and I are in an open relationship. And you do fuck other people too, like my boyfriend's dad."

Mandy: "You fucked Jimmy's dad?"

Ian: "It was a one-time thing. While Mickey and I were off, that was. And for the record, I don't intend to fuck anyone else ever again. I love the one dick I've got."

Mandy: "Could you be any gayer?"

#

Lip: "Those are lots of boxes."

Mickey: "So?"

Lip: "Nothing. And don't you tell me what my brother will do to you when he sees it. Let's load up the truck."

Mickey: "Man, the tree looks good. You should consider cleaning for a living."

Lip: A forced laugh.

#

Ian: "Wow, the lasagna smells really good, Fi."

Fiona: "Have you ever doubted my cooking? The turkey looks ready. Could you put it on that big plate."

Ian: "Sure."

Lip: "We're back."

Mickey: "Gallagher, come help me with the tree."

Ian: "Coming. Mands, you mind taking over?"

Footsteps.

Fiona: "Lip, those stuff look expensive. How much did you spend?"

Lip: "Well, enough to feed a small third-world country for a month."

Mickey: "Move away, unless you want some branches sticking up your ass."

Debbie: "Fi, we're home. You won't believe what Jimmy got us. This is going to be the best Christmas ever!"

Fiona: "Hope you didn't buy too much stuff, Debs. We don't want Jimmy to go broke."

Jimmy: "Not at all. I'm happy you guys are happy."

Lip: "Someone's trying hard to get laid tonight."

Mandy: "Lip, could you not bring that up?"

Debbie: "Wow, the tree looks fantastic. How can I help? How can I help?"

Ian: "You can help put lights and ornaments on it as soon as Mick and I finished putting it up."

Mandy: "Dinner's ready. Come eat."

Debbie: "But we want to decorate the tree first."

Fiona: "I didn't cook for six hours to let it go cold before we get a chance to eat it. Come on. Eat first."

Carl: "Something smells yummy in here."

Ian: "That would be my turkey."

Fiona: A glare.

Ian: "Okay, Fi did all the seasoning but I was the one who stuffed it and put it in the oven."

Fiona: "That's more like it. Jimmy, could you cut the turkey?"

Carl: "I wanna cut it. I'm really good with knives now. Mickey's been teaching me for a while."

Debbie: "If I want someone to slaughter a turkey, you'll be my first choice."

Fiona: "Debbie, cut it off. Though it's good to know two of my brothers are in good hands."

Mickey: "I try my best."

Lip: "Could we please eat? I'm starving."

Indistinct chattering.

Fiona: "Carl, stop shoving food in your mouth. You're going to choke."

Carl: Coughs.

Fiona: "See?"

Carl: "How come you don't say anything when Mickey does it? He's doing it now!S"

Fiona: "'Cause he's not my little brother."

Carl: "Not to mention he kinda scares the hell out of you."

Fiona: "No, he does not. He's been very good to Ian and that's all that matters."

Mandy: "And we do know how good he is. No offense, you two. Ian's word, not mine."

More coughs.

Lip: "What did you talk about while we were out?"

Ian: "Nothing. . . Nothing G-rated."

Mandy: "We were comparing how you guys are. . . in bed. And may I say that from what I heard, you win by light-years, my big brother."

An awful lot of coughs, followed by some choking.

Lip: "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Change the subject, please."

Mickey: "You talk to my sister about how we fuck?"

Lip: "I guess we're not finished."

Ian: "We're best friends. We tell each other everything."

Mickey: "How you and I fuck shouldn't be one of everything. How much did you tell her?"

Mandy: "Not much. Just that it's magical how you slam into him. Again, Ian's word, not mine. Didn't know gay guys really like being bottom before. How can we women ever compete with that?"

Some chuckles, some grimaces, and probably the most powerful death glare ever known to mankind.

Debbie: "I'm finished. Let's go put up the tree."

Lip: "Yeah, me too. Actually, I won't be eating again until next year."

Carl: "Good. More food for us."

Fiona: "I'm glad you two are here with us this year. Too bad Vee and Kev had to go visit Vee's mother. And I'm surprised Frank hasn't shown up, yet. He never missed free food. I wonder what happened." A judgmental glance.

Jimmy: "Don't look at me. I didn't do anything. Although I still think dropping him off to Canada was a good idea."

Mandy: "So, assface. How have you been? I don't get to see you a lot since you got married."

Mickey: "Shut up, fuck-twat." Gnawing rather angrily.

Head being bored by masses of collective stares in the room.

Mickey: "What?"

Mandy: "You didn't deny it."

Mickey: Panicking. "What?! I-"

A shit-eating grin and a bone-crushing hug.

A teen being crushed.

Mandy: "I'm happy for you, assface. Haven't seen you this happy since. . . ever."

Struggling.

Squeezing.

Mickey: "No, I- Let go of me, you asshole."

A thud and a grunt.

Ian: "Never gonna happen, you dickhead."

Cheek pressing into cheek.

Mandy: "I'm glad someone can deal with all his shits. And he's got a lot of shits. You, my friend, deserve a medal."

Mickey: A groan.

Ian: "He ain't half bad once you know him."

Kissing started.

Mandy: "Yeah, but you've got to admit he ain't half good either."

More struggling.

Fiona: "When did they become so. . ."

Jimmy: "Comfortable with their sex lives?"

Fiona: "I was gonna say fucking crazy about fucking, but let's go with yours."

Jimmy: "I don't know. We've walked in on them several times. Way too often if you ask me. So I guess there's nothing much left to be discreet about."

Fiona: "Still. . . Ian, get off the floor. And stop devouring Mickey. He's not your food."

Ian: "But Fi, he's so delicious."

Some moments after certain amount of self-control kicked in. . . well, more like a smack in the head.

Mickey: "I'm full."

Carl: "Me, too."

Fiona: "You two only chomped down, like, four pounds of turkey each and you're full?"

Lip (from living room): "Just hold the damn tree while I secure the base."

Debbie (also from living room): "You don't know how to put up a tree, Lip."

Lip (still from living room): "I do. I just need a laser leveler, that's all."

Ian: "Mick, could you go help them before the tree came crashing down?"

Mickey: A questioning glare.

Ian: Puppy-dog eyes.

Mickey: "Fine."

Footsteps.

Living room: A great deal of yelling.

Long, long time later. . . (at least that was how certain people felt)

Mickey: "There."

Debbie: "Yeah! Now we can start putting lights and ornaments on it."

Lip: "I can't believe Mickey knows how to put up a Christmas tree."

Mickey: "I also know how to put down a douchebag who never shuts up. Wanna see?"

Ian: "Just let it go, Mick. We all know Lip has smug comments about everything."

Mickey: "Oh, now you're done eating? Not when this genius of a moron fell down and almost landed on me?"

Lip: "And certainly not when your sergeant slaughter tried to crack my skull with a ceramic angel."

Ian: "Why did you two get such a big tree anyway?"

Lip: "Let's just say that it wasn't much of a choice."

Sometime later. . .

Fiona: "Listen, guys. Sleeping arrangement. Jimmy and I will be in my room. Lip, you are taking the mattress from the van and go sleep in the spare bedroom with Mandy. Ian and Mickey will take Debbie's room. Debs, Carl and Liam will be in the boys' room."

Debbie: "Why can't the boys be in their room? I don't want them having sex on my bed."

Carl (pointing at Ian and Mickey): "'Cause I'm sick of sleeping with them fucking every time they thought I was asleep. The earplugs don't work as well as you might think, you know."

Fiona: "Really? In front of an eleven-year-old?"

Mickey: "Don't look at me. It's your brother's fucking fault."

Fiona: "Ian, really?"

Ian: "It's not my fault we don't have our own room. And we do have urges."

Carl: "Lots of them."

Fiona: "That's not even an excuse."

Carl: "Like, three urges a night."

Fiona: "Carl!"

A little while past midnight. . .

Ian: "Mickey, wake up. It's officially Christmas. Mickey."

Mickey: A soft snore.

Ian: "You leave me no choice."

Mickey: A loud gasp, followed by a half-hearted frown.

Ian: "You know what they say. Third time's a charm."

Mickey: "If you think we're gonna stop at three, you're wrong."

Lusty moans ensued.

Morning. . .

Debbie: "Ian, Mickey, come on down. Time to open the presents."

Mickey: "You nuts? The birds are still sleeping."

Debbie: "It's almost seven. Come on, please."

Ian: "Okay, Debs. We'll be right down."

Debbie: "Don't forget to put some clothes on."

Footsteps fading.

Ian: A chuckle.

Mickey: "What?"

Ian: "Just thinking it was almost seven, like, three hours ago."

Mickey: "Wanna make it twelve?"

Ian: "Sure, but after we open the presents. I hate to disappoint my little sister."

Mickey: "Let's get it the fuck over with, then."

Ten minutes later. . .

Debbie: "Wow, a make-up kit. Thanks, Mandy."

Ian: "My turn. What did my little brother get me?" Tearing some paper. "A t-shirt?"

Carl: "Not just a t-shirt. Look, a 'Mickey' t-shirt. And I got you a pair of mouse ears, too."

Mickey: "You little sicko. Here, open mine."

Carl: "Its shape looks funny. Oh, well." Violently ripping paper. "A crossbow! Big sicko, this is the best gift ever. Can't wait to try it. I love you, my brother."

Ian: "Did you hear that? He loves you as a brother!"

Mickey: "I happen to grow on people. Now, get the fuck off me before I shoot you with my gift."

Fiona: "What were you thinking giving my little brother a crossbow?"

Mickey: "A gun would be too much?"

Jimmy: "Before this turns into a bloodbath, here's my gift to you."

Mickey: "Escaping mediocrity: A guide to West Point exams? What the hell?"

Jimmy: "Fiona told me you and your incentives work great with Ian, so I thought this would be a nice gift to both of you."

Ian: "Thanks, Jimmy. Really appreciate it."

Mickey: "Yeah, thanks." Anger seeping through his voice.

Lip: "Uh, uh. Here's my gift to both of you, too."

Ian: "Thanks, big brother. What could it be?"

Two sets of eyes narrowing rather viciously.

Debbie: "What is it?"

Ian: "You children stay away. Our big brother thought it would be funny to give me and Mickey a sex toy."

Lip: "Well, this way you can both be bottom at the same time."

Ian: "Still not funny. And it only works with girls. What really funny is my gift to you. Here, open it."

Lip: A dull face. "Jeez, another sex toy. Thanks, but I have no problem satisfying my girlfriend's need."

Ian: "According to her, you're not doing a very good job."

Lip: "Bullshit. Wait. What is he saying?"

Mandy: "Don't take this the wrong way, but it might slip off my mouth that you sorta get lost from time to time."

Debbie: "You guys realize there are kids in the room, right? Sweet, adorable, innocent kids."

Lip: "What's the right way to take it? And may I point out that you just told my whole family I'm bad in the sack."

Mandy: "Calm down, jerk. I'm just kidding. Can we go back to opening presents?"

Lip: "How could you say th-"

A relatively loud thud.

Mickey: "There. That's how you shut him up."

Lip (mouthing to himself, and to Mandy, but she ignored): "This is not over. I won't stop having sex with you until you're satisfied."

Debbie: "Moving on. This box is pretty big. What's in it?" Excitedly opening the box. "A collection of every girly book ever written in the twenty-first century! Thanks, Mickey. I love you."

Ian: "And now my little sister also loves you. And now she hugs you. And now my little brother joins her. And now I join them."

About five minutes later. . .

Debbie: "Stop kissing already! And also stop rubbing your crotches together."

Jimmy: "I believe it's called grinding."

Fiona: "That's where you decided to come in? Really?"

Mandy: "I thought you two had, like, ten rounds last night."

Ian (with a muffled voice): "Eleven."

Mandy: "And you are still horny?"

Ian: Gasping for air. "What can I say? It's natural for people our age."

Mandy: "I am your age and you don't see me humping every half an hour."

Mickey: A scoff.

Ian: "Maybe for you, sex isn't as enjoyable."

Fiona: "Okay, you may excuse yourselves. But come back for breakfast, understand?"

Two bodies synchronously stumbled their way upstairs.

Lip: "Us, too, Mandy. I have a point to prove."

Mandy: "Okay, but I'm not kissing you. I saw you swallow your own puke a minute ago. And bring Ian's gift with you, too."

Some number of rounds later. . .

Mickey: "Found this upstairs. Here."

Fiona: "Have some breakfast, you two. Or brunch? Whatever."

Jimmy: "A stash of money?"

Carl: "Uh, I totally forgot about that. Big sicko and I went after the cripple man who bought that red car from you, so it's from both of us."

Jimmy: "I don't remember him limping or anything."

Mickey: "He is now."

Fiona: A disapproving headshake.

Lip: "Dude, hope you got laid enough last night 'cause you won't be getting any for a while."

Jimmy: "Well, thanks, Mickey, Carl, and Lip for rubbing it in. Let's move to the living room so we can open more presents."

Lip: "Nice going, dude."

After relocation. . .

Debbie: "Carl, this is for you."

Carl: "Noise-cancelling headphones, and a water spray bottle? The headphones, I get, but a spray bottle?"

Debbie: "It'll come in handy. You see. . ." Whispering.

Carl: Chuckles. "Okay. Got it."

Mandy: "This is for you, assface."

Mickey: "Clothes? Thanks, mom."

Mandy: "You're fucking welcome. Honestly, I don't know how you can put up with what he wears, Ian-"

Ian: "Finally, someone understands my frustration. The only thing I want on him always has been and always will be a naked me."

Carl: "Now?"

Debbie: "Wait for it."

Lip: "I can't thank you enough for sharing that with us."

Mandy: "As I was saying, I'm sick of those grimy, ragged, washed out, infected, worn to shreds bits and pieces he calls clothes."

Ian: "Thanks, Mands. I'm sure he'll look good in them. . . or out of them. You know what, let me-"

Debbie: "Now!"

Carl: Spraying. "Bad Ian!"

Ian: A growl.

Carl: "It works, Debs. Your. . ."

Debbie: "Aversive stimulus."

Carl: "Yeah, that. It works. He stopped."

Ian: A roar.

Carl: More spraying.

Carl: "Oh, no. Bad Ian, bad Ian, bad Ian! Debs, help! It's not working!"

Debbie: "Just give him sometime to adjust."

Carl: "Arrggghhhh!"

Lip: "Maybe you should have bought an electric collar thingy instead."

A pre-teen struggling in a headlock, screaming.

Ian: "Want me to try your gift on you, Lip? Maybe Mickey and I can put it up your mouth and your ass at the same time."

Carl: Breaking out.

Lip: "No, no, no, no, no. Thank you, but I'll just shut up. Please don't do that. My balls just reascended by hearing about it alone."

Fiona: "Carl, why are you hiding behind Mickey?"

Carl: "If anyone can stop Ian, it's him. Or at least he can be a diversion. Here!" Lifting Mickey's shirt. "Look, Mickey's abs! I know you're hungry, Ian. Promise to let me go and I'll let you do whatever you want with him."

Debbie: "Don't encourage them, Carl. Oh, look, we're gonna need a hose, a firehose. Quick! Or they're gonna have sex right here in front of us."

Mandy: "Don't panic, Debs. I know exactly how to stop them. Watch and learn." Lifting her tops. "Boys, look. My boobs are jiggling!"

Acute, major choking.

Ian's head burying into Mickey's neck, cuddling him and seeking comfort.

All: A brief silence.

Mickey: "You perverted fuck-twat. Nobody wants to see those."

Carl: "Booooobs."

Lip: "Uh, I do."

Mickey: "That simultaneous mouth-ass offer still holds."

An ass disappearing into the kitchen.

Fiona: "Stop drooling, Jimmy."

Mandy: "Now you know how we feel."

Life being squeezed out from an unfortunate teen.

Jimmy: "It's sad that you don't enjoy those as we do."

Mickey (the above teen): Sighing.

Debbie: "Mickey, why did you just sigh? You're gonna need all the air to survive Ian's hug."

Carl: "Don't worry, Debs. Ian does this everynight. . . Quit staring at me like that, big sicko, you're not fooling anyone. I've seen you two sleep. It was disturbing."

Mickey: "Remind me to knock you out next time."

Carl: "Sure will, if Ian doesn't snuggle you to death first."

Mickey: "That can be arranged. Hey, Gallagher." Whispering.

Ian: "Twenty!"

Mickey: "Three."

Ian: "Fifteen!"

Mickey: "Seven."

Ian: "Deal!"

A teen being freed. . . after some nuzzling.

Debbie: "What was that about?"

Mandy: "Don't ask, or they might tell us."

Lip: "Moving on!"

Jimmy: "What's this envelope?"

Mickey: "Oh, that. Give it to headbitch."

Fiona: Opening. "Two movie tickets?"

Mickey: "Yeah, that vampire-werewolf shit."

Debbie: "I've told you before and I'm gonna tell you again. The vampire did not fall for the werewolf. It's the other way round. And I think the plot's not very good. Though I like this one vampire that looks horrifyingly like you."

Fiona: Melting through Mickey's skull by her eyes. "You- you know? Wait. How did you-"

Mickey: "You've been bitching about it for, like, a hundred times this fucking week alone, and this dumbass never noticed. So consider it my way of telling you to shut the fuck up."

Fiona: "Wow. Never thought I would say this but thanks, Mickey."

Mickey: "Seriously, or I'll shut it for you."

Fiona: A smug smile. "Okay. Then I guess here is your gift."

Mickey: "Keys?"

Debbie: "To Ian's heart?"

Mandy: "No, silly, he already has that."

A retort being formed.

Debbie: "Then to what?"

Fiona: "They are keys to our house."

Nope, nothing. Too shocked.

Ian: "Fi! Thanks."

A brotherly hug.

Fiona: "You're welcome, Ian. Never thought I would say this either, but it's good having Mickey around. . . You can let go now. I. . . can't. . . breathe."

Ian: "Oh, sorry."

Debbie: "Mickey's speechless."

Poking.

Eyes narrowing.

Ian: "Give him time. He'll come up with something."

Carl: "While he's still busy. You should open his gift from me. Here."

A pre-teen waiting anxiously.

Ian: "A switchblade? And a butterfly knife? And a machete?!"

Carl: "I couldn't decide so I got them all."

Ian: "What kind of mall did you guys go to? And what is it you think he'll do with them?"

Carl: "I don't know, but I'm sure it'll be interesting to help, or at least watch."

Mickey: "Headbitch, you don't seriously think I'm gonna be living in this looney bin, do you?"

Ian: "Good. You're back."

Jimmy: "Okay. My turn. Fiona, my lady. Here's my gift to you."

Fiona: "The box is real big, Jimmy. What is it?"

Jimmy: "Open it and you'll find out."

Debbie: "A karaoke machine! I don't know what to say."

Jimmy: "Well, it's for Fiona, Debs. She has such a beautiful voice. But I'm glad you like it."

Debbie: "Like it? I love it. Let's plug it in."

Fiona: "Thank you, Jimmy. You shouldn't have."

Lip: "I see you're getting a green light again. Happy for you, dude."

Mandy: "Oh, my boyfriend's back. And is sex all that smart brain of yours ever think about?"

Lip: "Hey, boys will be boys, and boys sure do think about sex a hell lot, if not all of the time."

Mandy: "No wonder why these two try to shag everytime they have a chance." Waving at Ian and Mickey.

Debbie: "Okay, it's officially on. Fiona, what do you wanna sing?"

Fiona: "I'm good, Debs. You can go first."

Debbie: "No, it's your gift. Pick a song."

Twenty minutes gone by. . .

Ian: "Uh, my turn."

Suspenseful, eerie music playing. Listening idly.

Analyzing.

Not feeling so good. Instinct kicking in. Run away. Run!

Ian (singing): "Oh Mickey, you're so fine you're so fine you blow my mind, hey Mickey (huff huff), hey Mickey (huff huff)."

Too late. Mind'd already been blown.

Lip: "Can't believe my brother's actually doing this. Mickey, you seeing this? Mickey? Look, he's stunned. He doesn't even swat my hand off his shoulder."

Mickey's brain splattering. It happened suddenly, in a burst of sound.

Carl: "He doesn't even blink. It's like his mind went blank. Hey Mickey!"

Ian (singing): "You've been around all night and that's a little long. You think you've got the right but I think you've got it wrong. Why can't you say goodnight so you can take me home, Mickey!"

Debbie: "Mandy, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Mandy: "Sure, Debs. Let's join him."

Ian, Debbie and Mandy (singing): "Oh Mickey, what a pity you don't understand. You take me by the heart when you take me by the hand."

Lip (laughing): "Look, the three of them are dancing! Help. I can't stop laughing."

Ian, Debbie and Mandy (singing and dancing): "Oh Mickey, you're so pretty, can't you understand? It's guys like you, Mickey!"

Carl (rolling on the floor): "Me, too. My belly hurts."

Ian, Debbie and Mandy (still singing and dancing): "Oh, what you do Mickey, do Mickey. Don't break my heart, Mickey!"

Carl (still rolling on the floor): "Lip, look. Ian's giving him a lap dance."

Lip (still laughing): "I know. I'm laughing too hard my stomach doesn't even remember how to puke."

Straddling.

Kissing.

Reassembling brain.

Mickey: "You fucking insa-"

Tongue shoving in.

Fiona (chuckling): "Now his brain functions again."


	14. These little shits

Sorry this took so long. Oh, just so you know, I've updated ch 13 to include who said what.

* * *

**14. These little shits**

A big appreciation to whoever responsible for the fact that school was on at last. Finally, after the longest few months of his life, he could return to have his 'him time' alone away from you-know-who again. And if anyone asked, what he did in his free time was his, only his, and none of anyone else's goddamn business.

But still, people couldn't help but wonder about what the Jell-O he did all day when a certain Gallagher wasn't around. Some said he got high, or drunk, or stoned, whatever some might call, others said he took a side job as a repo man, collecting debts for some not-so upright local business. Till this day, the truth was still shrouded in controversy as no one could say they knew for sure what really was the case.

Despite popular belief, no, he did not just sleep through the boring-as-hell time Ian was gone. That would be a complete opposite of the productive activity he was engaging during said time. In fact, he was performing an incredibly important, yet subtle task that could prevaricate direct observation, nevertheless upon which the entire civilization hinged. Little did other people realize, the said task was so fundamentally essential that the universe would cease its existence, ending life as we know it, should he dare to stop. So screw you, other people.

"Ian's rubbing off on you more and more these days." A mocking voice, together with a child-size weight, pulled him out from his train of thought. Why the hell he was sleeping on Gallagher's bed long after Gallagher went to school still wasn't comprehensible to him. And what was this sociopath doing here on school day again? Oh, right, it had been mentioned once or twice that the little sicko 'accidentally' put one of his friends - or was it a teacher? - in a hospital for the no-one-seemed-to-bother-keeping-track-of time. So the brat got suspended. What kind of stupid punishment was that?

And what was that thing the sadistic imp just blathered about firecrotch. . . rubbing? Well, that sure sounded nice, so nice he might move his ass to school to get some rubbing from Gallagher right away. Wait. What?

Mickey grabbed Carl and hauled him over in a headlock as soon as he snapped out of his thought.

"Nooooo!" Carl yelped, squirming out his reach. He wrestled his way away from the older teen and sat panting on his bottom bunk. Mickey frowned at him.

The little sicko was right. Firecrotch was rubbing off on him, but it wasn't half bad. He'd been a dick most, if not all, of his life, but something about Gallagher disarmed him and made him do things he normally would never do, like seeing an early sunlight, taking a shower, dragging himself down for breakfast, conversing pointless shits with a clan of outlandish people, glowering in response to a shit-eating grin Gallagher gave him before he went to school, then dragging himself up and right back to bed again.

(In his defense, he didn't want to miss his morning fuck.)

He was still a dick of course, but with firecrotch, it was different, he was more of an ass.

He wasn't sure what the fuck he'd done that got him stuck in this hell hole and he went past caring for quite a while now, but that didn't mean he would stop wondering about it. Maybe, just maybe, the answer was right in front of him all along. Maybe it was the fuck that got him hanging around this dysfunctional family. He decided to leave it at that for the day.

"I thought we agreed you'd stop watching me sleep." Mickey's expression darkened.

"I'll bust you open like a freaking piñata if you ever try that again." Carl warned, his voice slightly shaken as he stared straight into what felt like an abyss.

"Try what?" Mickey cocked his head nonchalantly, staring straight back.

"What's left of you will hang around for a few days." The pre-teen tried to sound haughty, but failed when the slightly scared look on his face was now adopted by his whole body as he unconciously flinched away and melted into the blurry shadow of the bottom bunk.

Mickey smirked predatorily, and in that instant, a look of awestruck horror crossed Carl's face as he unfroze and rapidly leapt of the bed, out the door and down the stairs. The older teen scoffed and went after him.

A series of nooooo's and aaargh's ensued, companioned by some violent crashes.

Meanwhile. . .

"Ian. I've been meaning to ask you something." Debbie announced as they walked their way home from school. The conversation somehow sounded heavy.

"What's on your mind, Debs?" Ian turned to look at her and then got taken aback by the serious expression on her face.

"What's your nickname?"

"What do you mean?" Her question was unclear to Ian. Who could blame him? He just woke up. He turned in very late every night and he had to get up early in the morning, otherwise he and Mickey wouldn't get all the brain chemicals they needed.

Getting up early was important because he would get all cranky if he didn't get his before-breakfast fuck as it was the most essential fuck of a day. Sleeping at school was also important for recharging his energy for his right-after-school fuck as they hadn't seen each other for several hours. After that he would have some let's-have-another-round-already fuck(s) as possible, and last but not least, his before-bedtime fuck(s) was also important so going to bed early was out of the question.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, Mickey's got a nickname for everyone of us. I don't know why on earth he doesn't just call us by our first names, but since he doesn't do that, it was really practical to give us nicknames because calling all of us Gallagher would have made a serious confusion." She explained.

Ian just blinked at her. Came to think of it, his family might wonder about them. Mickey didn't change in anyway, Ian knew it. The only difference was Mickey let him in.

Her eyes stared deep into his. "You know what I'm talking about." She paused to let the sentence sink in, then she sighed as she elaborated.

"Carl's nickname is little sicko, which as much as I hate to admit, it suits him pretty well. Mine is yappy," she rolled her eyes as she said that, "though I'm still in the process of filing a petition against it." Her hands swept out in an encompassing gesture. "Lip's is smugface, not much to say about that. Liam's is rugrat, 'cause he's a baby. Fi's is headbitch, why she answers instead of smacks him when he calls her that still puzzles me. Even Jimmy has one, dumbass, and it kinda sticks." She paused again.

"So you see, everybody has one but you. He just calls you Gallagher. I wanna know what's yours."

Ian cupped his jaw in the palm of his hand. "Maybe I don't have one. Maybe I'm just Gallagher to him, you know, 'cause I'm the Gallagher he spends most time with."

"Nah. Don't try to fool me. You must have one, but somehow he doesn't call you by your nickname when we are around. You wouldn't be smiling from ear to ear right now if you don't have one. So would you just tell me already?"

"You don't really wanna know." Ian warned.

"Believe me when I say I do. I've been thinking about it for a while now. I even eavesdropped you two sometimes, but it's like Mickey knew someone was listening and called you Gallagher every time. It's driving me crazy."

"You sure? 'Cause Lip certainly was disturbed real bad when he found out by accident. Curiousity kills cats, you know." He cocked up his eyebrows.

"I'm sure. Curiousity is killing me right now." She insisted.

"Okay." He said, but no words came out after that.

"So?"

"Firecrotch."

"What?"

"Firecrotch. That's what he calls me. Firecrotch." Ian said with a smile, looking almost as smug as Lip when Debbie's furrowed her eyebrows.

"Ewwwwwwwwwwwww." A grimace registered on Debbie's face.

She would never ask him about something like that ever again.

* * *

"Mickey, I'm home." Ian announced as he walked through the door. He swore he could feel an explosion went off the moment those word left his lips, shaking the foundation of the house and causing small bits of white to flake down from the ceiling. Next thing he knew, hundreds of merciless daggers were flying at him, piercing through his innocent person as he fell bleeding and screaming in agony onto the floor, metaphorically of course, but it might have been real if "Honey" were used instead of "Mickey".

His explicably irritated living weapon of a boyfriend was sitting on the couch (Ian could imagine the pain from the broken nose he'd be sure to get if he ever called Mickey that, too), glaring at him with so much intensity that could make stones bleed. Carl was sitting in a shadowed corner of the room like a ghost, playing with his knives, looking at him almost as though he had heat vision and could incinerate any offending person with a glance. His little brother was panting a bit and somehow looked messier, dirtier, and deadlier than usual.

"What happened?" Debbie asked, beckoning.

"Just waiting for the right moment to slice him into confetti." Carl replied, stroking the machete in his hand, scowling at his nemesis, absolutely hell bent on revenge.

"Good to see you two enjoy each other's company." Recovered from his imaginary injuries, Ian said smilingly, propping his bag down. The former residents of the living room shared a groan, which made their eyes snap towards each other simultaneously, good-naturedly showing how delightful they felt about each other.

Ian swaggerred his way towards, leapt over and sank on the couch, letting his head fall onto Mickey's lap, a smile blossoming on his face, eyes widening sheepishly, pretending it was a normal thing to do. The older teen looked down at him, his brows furrowed and his mouth opened to say something. That was when Ian swiftly reached around his neck, pulled himself up and drew them into a kiss.

As Mickey tried to register what just happened, Ian was already all over him, straddling his hips and grinding their crotches together. Mickey's head hung back over the couch as Ian shoved his tongue down his throat and slipped one hand under the back of his shirt while the other went down and grabbed his ass.

A few minutes passed by before Mickey could regain his ability to think and succeeded in detaching Ian's face from his, giving him an incredulous look as they panted into each other's mouth.

"You can deny it all you want but we both know you're up for it." Ian said that out with a very seductive, yet innocent voice. "And its your fault I'm up all the time, you know."

Mickey blinked, blue eyes focusing back from their deep haze. "Really? In front of these little shits?"

An ear-to-ear grin slowly appeared on Ian's face. It was as if sunlight was streaming through the windows, shining at them, and birds were singing brightly outside.

Mickey frowned darker, almost consumed the light from Ian, almost, not even Mickey could cast a shadow strong enough to bring down Ian's inestimable amount of brightness.

"I'm sure they'll leave. You'll leave, right?" Ian turned to his now-stunned younger siblings, signalling that the question was only rhetorical, and then back to continue his assault on Mickey.

Debbie's eyebrows lowered to bunch together in genuine confusion as her jaw hung open. She couldn't recall exactly when oddity became normalcy in her continued existence.

Carl stared.

And stared.

And stared.

As the silence seemed to stretch on and on (except for all the moans), Carl was looking more and more like he was about to mutilate his brother but Debbie beat him to it when she karate-chopped Ian's head without remorse. "No! We eat here. Find some place else to do your nasty stuff."

There was the pause again, like something was waiting to be said.

Mickey closed his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating about the madness and other shits he had gotten himself into. A small part of him was impressed by Debbie's ruthlessness though.

"Never mind. They've seen us fuck before." An undeterred Ian broke the silence, chipper as ever as he took his jacket off and vigorously resumed attacking Mickey again.

Debbie's eyes widened in shock, Carl's mouth dropped open, and even Mickey gulped. Then the two little teens ran like hell.

Ian knew it wasn't nice treating his kid siblings like that, but you only live once right?

And he rounds were really worth it.

* * *

**Just saw s03e02. The school locker scene was sooo great! Ian was really cute trying to see if Mickey got that look ****in his eye. Couldn't stop smiling for, like, an hour.**

**By the way, who are those two in the opening that wrestle into the bathroom and one of them piss in the sink? I can't really tell, but I'm hoping they're Ian and Mickey, though.**


	15. What are you doing up?

This is nonsense, a load of nonsense. I don't know what'd gotten into me, but I think whatever it was has gotten out. That being said, part II might take a while (I've been kinda busy lately).

**15. What are you doing up?**

It was a bad day from the beginning, Mickey just knew it. How did he know it? Well, for one, there were signs: strong wind blowing, thunder rumbling, a black cat meowing freakishly outside (don't ask him how he knew it was black just by hearing its sound, he was confident of what he heard). Last night, a flock of crows flew by and he heard one of them crashed into a window and died. Shit usually hit the fan after that sort of crap happened. And for another one, he was having a fucking massive headache, the kind that usually came after you got hit in the head by a bat, no, two bats (which also flew by last night although they were different kind of bats). Okay, maybe a truck. But, apparently, that wasn't the only possible cause of it. Or maybe he did get hit by a truck (could also be a train, he didn't really know). His whole body definitely felt like it.

It wasn't flu season. Nope, it certainly wasn't. But for some goddamn reason, he had the flu. He was sure of it because he'd had the flu before, like, back when he was four or some shit, and from the miserable crappiness he felt right now, it was definitely the fucking flu. His throat felt like it had swollen up at some point during the night and the congestion was making breathing a challenging hell of a task. He pulled the covers up, partly because of the stupid sunshine that was piercing his eyes (damn those windows by the way) and partly because he was cold, shivering cold, and yet, he felt like his body was somehow on fire. Fuck you, flu. Fuck you!

And then it hit him. Right in the face, it hit him. Mickey abruptly pulled the covers back down and stared owlishly at the void above his head. He tried to convince himself that what just hit him wasn't real, but as his eyes flickered frantically around his surroundings, he realized his nightmare had come true. He wasn't in the comfort sanctuary of his house (where no one but Mandy cared about his business and that, as you would have guessed if you were paying any attention, was his definition of comfort). No, he sure as hell wasn't (though he didn't know for sure whether hell was sure). As evidenced from the swirling vortex that was cluttering in his vicinity, he was, to his utmost horror, in firecrotch's house!

.oOo. [Dramatic music playing]

After chaotically putting on his clothes (he'd thought for a second about jumping out the window butt-naked, but decided it wasn't worth it (he knew he might regret it later on (he also knew he was using one, no, two too many parentheses))), he tried his damnedest to stumble to the stairs as quiet as possible. Lurking inside one of the bedrooms was yappy, firecrotch's maddening little sister and as he was about to slip past her, the bathroom door swung open, revealing a yawning headbitch (who got a lot more sluggish lately after dumbass took over making breakfast). He thought this was the end of it, since he had absolutely fucking nowhere to run or hide. At the time, flattening his back to the wall, hoping he would miraculously seep through it (he didn't), seemed like the only rational option. Thank god or whoever responsible that headbitch didn't see him. Newly-awake Gallaghers were known to be drawn by the smell of food in the morning.

He remained amalgamated with the wall as he gradually lurched down the stairs that, hopefully, would lead to his escape, the house that was spinning on all sides of him made the task much harder than anyone could have imagined. He could feel that his breakdown was disturbingly near. The Gallaghers (fuck them all), as well as Mandy (since when did she live here?) and dumbass (fuck him, too. . . and how many fucking people lived here, anyway?), were shitchatting indistinctly in their natural habitat, the kitchen, and the smell of burnt action figures was unhurriedly but steadily engulfing his defenseless self. The sound and scent made him think about a lot of important things in life, most importantly the recently-bought Jell-O he was leaving behind (his body was in no condition to retrieve it without sacrificing himself). He could hear his heart beating, his stomach growling, and his future-self screaming at the mere thought of abandoning his much-adored Jell-O in this malignant territory.

He kept seeing shadows out of the corner of his eye, sensing danger. He was still highly pessimistic about his chance of getting out. He could barely hold himself up right, he was sore all over and there was not much strength left in him to carry on.

He was going to make it the fuck out of here, he kept telling himself. It was the only thing that prevented him from losing his sanity, the only thing that prevented him from giving up. He wouldn't let his ill self be trapped in this godforsaken place, not without a fight. He knew exactly what would happen, what firecrotch would do if he didn't get out in time, what kind of outright madness he would be forced to go through if said person found out he was sick and helpless (he silently screamed at that thought).

After what felt like the longest few minutes of his life (his life had flashed before his eyes twice already), the last step of the stairs began to come within his sight. He could practically foresee the front door behind the hideous wall he was despairingly clinging to. He must admit there were times when he thought he might not make it but as he was getting closer and closer to his tantalizing freedom, he could have sworn a small part of him was starting to believe that there was, in fact, hope after all.

Using what little strength that might have remained within him, he reached out to the trustworthy doorknob.

"Mickey? What are you doing up?" Sure as his constant need to fuck firecrotch (and that, ladies and gentlemen, was very sure indeed), the universe had its spiteful way to smash his newfound hope to smithereens.

Fuck!


	16. With you around

Okay, okay. I know it's been three months since I last updated this fic. I've been busy writing papers and doing research. (Hope that's a legit excuse.) Anyway, here is part II of when Mickey got sick. I intended for it to contain a sickening amount of fluff but somehow I got off track.

Thanks for your patience. (Oh, and some comments would be nice.)

**16. With you around**

Ian was humming happily in the kitchen after the last series of loud bangs had finally subsided about an hour ago. Mickey must be hungry already, he thought to himself as he started walking up the stairs. With a tray balancing on one arm, the red-headed Gallagher carefully unlocked the door and walked into his room. He was greeted by a low groan from under a thick pile of blankets.

"Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead." He said back, nudging at the lump on his bed with his sock-clad foot.

"The fuck do you want now?" A gruff voice inquired politely.

"You need to eat." Ian stated in a sing-a-song manner.

A brief moment of silence.

"And you need to fuck off." The lump replied.

A longer moment of silence.

Ian let out a sigh as he saw no better options but to put his foot into action again. . .

And again, and again, and again, and again, and again.

The molestation continued until the lump made a sudden move towards him. Having trained in ROTC, Ian was quick to take a step back and then watched in perplexity as said lump fell short on the floor in a tangling mess of blankets with a heavy thud.

Seeing no sign of other forthcoming movement, Ian crouched down and yanked off the layers of blankets, revealing an aggravated, inverted (and also incredibly cute don't-ever-tell-Mickey-he-thought-that) face underneath. "Don't be such a lazy ass. Get up! I made chicken soup." He chirped, holding out his masterpiece to his prisoner.

Two icy blue eyes sort of just glared at him.

"Well?" Ian smiled his shit-eating grin™, causing said prisoner to growl.

The glaring continued. "Go fuck yourself, firecrotch."

"I was saving that for later, but okay." He purred, setting the tray in a safe location. Fear spilled over Mickey's face after he saw Ian's eyes lighting with mischief. The dark-haired teen knew exactly what kind of sickening thoughts was going on in his fuckbuddy's mind.

.oOo.

"Well, that stopped the bitching." Ian said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Fuck. . . you." Mickey managed to pant the words out.

"Not in this condition." Ian said with a humored smile. "Now eat." Dopey Blue eyes opened to look at him. But there was no further resistance on Mickey's part as Ian's earlier ministration made Mickey's dick short-circuit his brain. So Mickey sat up, took the bowl and began eating its content unceremoniously.

"Want me to give you a bath after this?" Ian asked when Mickey almost finished inhaling the soup.

"You just sucked me off without asking any permission." Mickey deadpanned.

"Was that a yes?" The hopefulness in Ian's eyes was enough to power a small city.

"No." The response made Ian's face fall.

"Come onnnnn. I haven't gotten off alllll daaayyyy." The whininess in Ian's voice was absurdly high.

"No shit." Mickey tried to stay cool. "But what does that have to do with giving me a bath?"

"I know actual sex is still out of the question but I was hoping maybe you'd give me a handjob if I groped you enough." There was the hopefulness again.

"You don't need a bath to do that." Mickey couldn't believe what he had just said.

"But I want you to be naked." If anyone asked, Ian didn't in anyway pout.

"I'm naked right now." The degree of exasperation got higher.

"Yeah, but right now you are covered in sweat and sticky blankets." Ian pleaded his case. "I want you wet and slippery in a soothing water while your skillful hands palm my throbbing-"

"Stop it before you jizz your pants, firecrotch." Mickey's smirk came out in its normal bastardly sexy fashion.

Ian tried his hardest not to shoot right then. "S-so?"

This was getting ridiculous, Mickey thought. "Fine. But only if I get something in return."

"Yes!" Ian fist-pumped. "Anything you want! Let's go!"

.oOo.

"We need to take more baths together." Ian said, drying Mickey's hair with a towel.

"Not if you're gonna be that quick."

"Hey, I was pre-excited. And you didn't make it easy for me to last long, Mick. Also, you were pretty quick, too."

"Whatever. I like shower fucks better." Mickey sat down on the bed.

"We'll see about that." Ian grumbled. "Now say ah so I can take your temperature."

"It doesn't matter how many times you stick the damn thermometer in my mouth, I'm still fucking sick!"

"Are you saying I should stick it some place else?" Ian teased suggestively.

A figuratively light bulb appeared over Mickey's head.

"Don't tell me you actually just considered that." Ian wrinkled his nose.

"No. But you just gave me a million-dollar idea!" Mickey nearly yelled.

"What idea?" Ian frowned.

"A cock-shaped thermometer! Fun for both your mouth and your ass!"

"Yeah, sure. Taking temperature can't get any more fun than that." Laughing, Ian shook his head.

"I'm being seriously serious, Gallagher. We could make a fortune!"

"I doubt it will ever give accurate results, Mick." Seriously serious?

"Who cares? It's still fun. Fucking fun!"

"Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep. We'll talk about it later." They settled down after that.

"You know what, Gallagher?"

"What?"

"Getting sick doesn't suck too bad with you around." Mickey was so going to blame the painmeds Ian ground into the soup when he woke up later.

That sentence literally rendered Ian speechless ("Emotional responses originate from the primitive portion of the brain known as the Amygdala, while speech is centered in the much more recently developed Neocortex. The former can easily overpower the latter giving scientific credence to the notion of being rendered speechless." - Sheldon Cooper). So he did the only instinctive thing that came to mind at the moment and snuggled impossibly close to the love of his life.

"Another fucking thing, who said you could be the big spoon?"


End file.
